Confounded Hankering
by Red Lioness
Summary: Clay has a run-in with a Texas lady of questionable repute. When his control slips, how is he supposed to handle the situation?
1. Fancy

"The Shen-Gong-Wu's through here, somewhere!" Jack cried, ducking into a large anteroom. "JB you stay out here and wait in case those Xiaolin Losers come through."

"Uh, all righty," Johnny Betty said, coming to a slow halt.

Jack continued on through the room, disappearing into yet another hallway on the other side.

Johnny Betty shifted from one foot to the other, looking around the room. For some reason, being back in Texas made her itchy, nervous. They were in the border town of Laredo, searching for a Shen-Gong-Wu. The magical item was evidently hidden in the grand hall that held the annual celebration of George Washington's birthday. That might not seem like such a big deal to anyone not familiar with the opulence old money of Tejano families was capable of. Dresses worn by the debutantes at the tribute to Martha Washington could run upwards of $30,000 and weigh 85 pounds.

Stuff like that was a world away from the mild poverty Johnny Betty had grown up with.

The security guards had only let them in because they thought JB was one of the debutantes.

Jack had laughed once they were out of earshot, but JB had been flattered beyond belief.

Her? A rich young lady?

Johnny Betty kicked her boots against the floor, taking a closer look around. The small antechamber was clogged with racks and clothes-horses. The clothing was covered in plastic covers, but the shape and lumpiness beneath suggested extravagant Colonial ball gowns.

Brown eyes widened.

She was . . . she was _in_ the room they used to store the legendary dresses. The pageant was tonight; in a few short hours this place would be clogged with debutantes and assistants and hair dressers all arguing and jostling and fretting.

Johnny Better took a few steps towards one rack of dresses, then stopped and turned towards a different one. There was a blue dress on that one, robin's egg blue; JB's favorite color.

Gleefully, she dragged the zipper on the garment bag – it had to be custom made to accommodate the hoop skirt – and ran her hands over the heavy velvet dress.

Silver trim and rhinestones . . . wait, $30,000 . . . maybe the gemstones were real crystal. . or even diamonds! Whatever they were, they adorned the fabric in such abundance against the blue velvet it was as if the stars had decided to some out during the daytime.

The Texas maven lifted the incredible dress off the rack and just held it for a bit. It was kind of heavy for a dress, but eighty-five pounds didn't faze her.

Johnny Betty cast around and saw a large mirror waiting near a wall. Turning the dress around, JB held it up to her shoulders. It really was the prettiest shade of blue, even if it was still on the hanger and made for someone a good eight inches shorter than her. Thinking for a moment, Johnny Betty hooked the clothes hanger over her neck, letting the straps lay against her bare shoulders. As an afterthought, she gathered up her hair up in one hand and piled it on top of her head. As an even later afterthought, she gently bit her lips to redden them.

This done, she smiled her most charming smile and admired her reflection.

* * *

"Let's split up and look for the Wu! We've got to get to it before Jack does!" Raimundo cried, sweeping his arm around the convention center.

The Xiaolin monks quickly took off in four different directions.

Clay prowled around the convention center. He had been here a couple of times before; his mama had wanted him to put on tights and a wig and take part in the festivities. Yeah, _that_ sounded like something he wanted to do. Clay knew a couple of boys who had gone along with it for with their girlfriends, but . . . . yeah, no thanks.

A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Most people wouldn't have thought it possible for so big a man so move so quietly on cowboy boots, but Clay did. He ghosted over to the partially opened door and peered through it.

For a moment, he didn't know what to think.

Of course he recognized Johnny Betty; that long, lean Texas lady that alternately drove him wild and frustrated him worse than a chained up dog at a cat show. She was hot, oh Lord A'mighty, she could light a fire without a match, she could cook without a stove, she was so hot!

But for some reason she had latched onto that snake, Jack Spicer.

The last time their paths had crossed, Clay had confronted her about her partnership with the Evil Boy Genius.

"Jack Spicer is my friend!" JB had insisted stubbornly.

"You'd risk ten thousand years a' darkness for a 'friend'? Shoot, darlin', I got lots a' friends!" Clay shot back.

He'd never forget the look on her face when she gave her retort.

"I don't."

Clay hadn't been real sure what to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all. He had just shaken his head and walked away.

Now, here she was, holding up a ruinously expensive dress to her shoulders like she was shopping. What was she doing here?

Was she a debutante?

The robin's egg blue of her dress looked gorgeous against her dark skin, but Clay noted that the skirt was a good eight inches too short for her. It wasn't her dress.

For a second, Clay wondered why she would want to take a dress that didn't fit her, but then his eye caught the sparkle of gemstones sewn onto the fabric.

That dress probably cost more than most luxury cars.

Clay kicked open the door, striding towards the black-haired girl.

"All right, you just put that dress back right now, missy!" he commanded.

Johnny Betty whirled, the dress still held to her shoulders. She was surprised to see Clay Bailey here, but then again . . . .not really.

The Xiaolin monks had a habit of popping up unexpectedly and Clay, though cute and muscular, was preachy and nagging about being a good person. Just like every other person in her life, he thought she wasn't good enough.

"I wasn't gonna _take_ it!" she snapped.

It occurred to her that Clay had appeared from nowhere and demanded that she free her hands. It looked like a Showdown was eminent.

"I don't have no Shen Gong Wu on me, so we can't Showdown," JB stated coldly.

Clay snatched the dress from JB's hands and returned it to its hanger.

"That's some girl's dream dress you're about t' snitch. Th' pageant's been a tradition here for eighty years. I ain't lettin' you spoil it!"

"First of all, like I give a damn about some rich girl's party! An' that dress wouldn't even fit me; why th' hell would I take it?!"

"Maybe because it would pay for a dually truck with a gooseneck horse trailer painted t' match!" Clay clarified.

Johnny Betty paused. Then a scowl twisted her features.

"Oh. Right. I'm after it strictly fer money, 'cause there's no way _I'd_ like a pretty dress like that!"

Clay blinked, looking over at the frilly, doll like dresses, then at Johnny Betty's lean, muscled warrior's build.

The look did not go unnoticed. JB scowled harder.

"You know what? Just for that look I _am_ takin' th' damn dress! I'm'a buy myself a big ol' bike! Maybe a Harley!" Johnny Betty started for the dress racks again.

"Oh no you ain't!"

One meaty hand closed around JB's upper arm and dragged her tight against Clay's chest. She put her arms up to his shoulders but it was too late; the Dragon of the Earth's stone-strong arms wrapped around her.

"I don't like fightin' ladies, but a bear hug don' count as . . . . . . fight-in' . . ."

Clay trailed off.

In hindsight, he shouldn't have touched her.

Standing a few feet away, she was simply the hot but infuriating shrew he had become acquainted with from her association with Jack Spicer. When his hand touched the skin of her bare arm, an electric tingle shot up his own arm and detonated in the back of his skull. By then he was already dragging her into a bear hug. JB put her arms to his shoulders and a tiny, soft, and purely feminine noise escaped her lips.

Suddenly, things were very different.

Now it wasn't a bear hug to immobilize a female enemy, now he held a woman in his arms. She was close enough that he could smell her scent, could feel the sudden shiver that ran through her frame, feel the sweet curves that pressed tightly against his chest.

And her eyes were staring straight into his.

She had brown eyes.

Clay didn't think he'd ever noticed that before.

He certainly hadn't realized that brown eyes could burn.

He had a sudden flash of memory: when he was five years old his Grandma Lily had decided to make chocolate candies for all the grandchildren for Easter. The smell of chocolate had drawn little Clay into the kitchen and when his grandmother's back was turned, he had stuck his greedy little hand into the pot of boiling chocolate.

The burns had taught him a valuable lesson about patience.

That was what Johnny Betty's eyes reminded him of; boiling chocolate. Just as tempting and probably twice as hazardous to his health.

Johnny Betty gasped.

She was an old-fashioned girl at heart. Not in the way of women being homemakers and mothers and letting their men take care of them, no this was an old-fashioned idea that pre-dated the idea that women wore long dresses and should know how to cook.

This was the idea that what a woman really wanted the biggest, strongest male around.

Johnny Betty had super-strength. Finding a man stronger than her was no easy task, but it looked like she had just managed it.

And Clay had eyes as blue as that dress she had been drooling over.

JB drew in a second shaky breath through barely parted lips.

Later, neither one of them would be sure who kissed whom first.

JB was pretty sure it was her because Clay was a good man; he sure wouldn't force a kiss on a female enemy.

Clay was pretty sure it was him because what woman would want to kiss some . . . some _brute_ who was manhandling her.

Whoever had kissed whom first, a moment later they were both locked together at the mouth, tongues wrestling and mating furiously. Clay no longer had to fight to keep JB pressed against him, she clutched hard at his shoulders as she writhed against him, enjoying the feel of hard, male muscles pressed against her own.

Clay's hands seemed to roam across JB's body without any input from his brain. When both hands gripped her bodacious butt and _squeezed_, he finally came to his senses.

"We can't do this!" Clay blurted, tearing himself away from Johnny Betty. "I'm . . . you're . . . we can't do this!"

The dark haired girl staggered a step forward, her cheeks still flushed with passion.

"Yuh-yeah," she agreed breathlessly, pushing her hair out of her face. "I'm . . . you're probably jest one more horned up farm boy who wants a one night rodeo an' nothin' else."

"I ain't like that!" Clay protested. "I jest ain't into bad girls! How many one night rodeos you had, anyway?"

"How dare you!" JB snapped. "A country girl's gotta fight like hell t' keep herself intact from you good ol' boys! All you want is t' get your dicks wet an' then you're gone like yesterday!"

"I. Ain't. Like that!" Clay roared. "I just want a girl that ain't out fer nuthin' but herself!"

"Listen, asshole, if I was out fer nuthin' but myself I'd be in Las Vegas with a bull rider on each arm and a brand spankin' new chopper between my legs!" As she spoke, JB stepped up and thrust her nose an inch away from Clay's.

A moment later they were grappling passionately again.

This time Clay slipped both hands under JB's shapely bottom and lifted, pressing back at the same time to pin her body between his own frame and the wall. Her long legs lifted and curled around his waist.

The soft moan she let out banished what few rational thoughts still remained in the big cowboy's head. He pressed harder, petted more furiously, and lashed his tongue faster. All he knew was the joy of kissing and stroking this gorgeous woman in his arms.

"Clayton William Bailey!"

Clay tore himself away from Johnny Betty a second time, noting in a sort of numb horror that a thin string of saliva that stretched between their lips caught the light before it broke.

Clay started to step back, but forgot that JB had her legs wrapped around his waist. She started to slide down the wall, but Clay thrust his hips forward at the last minute and kept her in place.

_Then_ he turned to look at the interloper.

"A-Aunt Clarabelle?" Clay squeaked.

The older blonde woman standing in the doorway seemed to inflate with anger. She was dressed impeccably in an expensive grey suit. A gaggle of well-bred debutantes giggled quietly, peering around her to gawk at the entwined pair.

"I thought you told your Mama that you wouldn't be caught dead within a hundred miles of Laredo during the pageant," Clarabelle said coldly.

JB slid her legs down to the ground, her boots clunking softly against the floor as she regained her footing. The noise seemed to draw Aunt Clarabelle's attention. Her piercing blue eyes locked on to the black-haired girl.

"And _who_ might this be?"

"Uh . . . ."

Clay's eyes flew to the young woman at his side. Only now did he notice she was wearing a Jack Daniel's midriff tank top and the infamous 'Sex Boots' belt buckle—The bottoms of two large cowboy boots, complete with spurs, pressed tight together and pointing downwards. On the outside of those boots were a smaller pair, dainty, high-heeled and feminine, spread wide and pointed up.

"Uh . . . . ."

He couldn't exactly tell the truth; that he had caught JB fondling the dresses and thought she should see what it felt like to be on the receiving end. 'Thought' was perhaps too strong a word, nothing like thought had gone through Clay's head. Of course, admitting that wasn't really an option, either.

'Sorry, Aunt Clarabelle, the truth is, I don't even like Johnny Betty, but damn, I can't help wantin' t' get into her pants!'

"Uh . . . . . . . . t-this is my girlfriend!" Clay blurted. "She – she – she want'd to see th' dresses, so I snuck her in. Sorry, Aunt Clarabelle."

JB gave him an incredulous look. Clay forced a sheepish grin and groped for her hand, finally finding it and interlacing his fingers with hers. The dark-haired maven gave their hands a startled look.

"Have a name, does she?" Clarabelle asked, studying JB in excruciating detail.

"Johnny Betty Pecos," Clay answered instantly.

"Well, I don't see anyone fakin' a name like that," Clarabelle said.

"Thanks a lot," JB growled.

Clay gripped her hand tightly and gave her arm a little shake.

"Get on outta here an' let these _young ladies_ get dressed," Clarabelle snapped, gesturing to the door with her head.

Clay darted for the opening, dragging JB along with him.

"Your Daddy's gonna hear about this," Clarabelle murmured as Clay raced by.

Johnny Betty heard this, but it didn't even register. What she _did_ catch were the scoffing looks the debutantes gave her and the murmurs of:

'Omigod, look at her _clothes_.'

'Wow, Clay's slumming.'

'D'you think he had to pay her?'

Clay just kept his head down and kept dragging JB along until they were approaching the door.

"Wait; I'm s'pposed t' be keepin' an eye on Jack," JB protested weakly.

"Jest git on outta here," Clay growled, his cheeks beet red.

Johnny Betty considered this for a second, and then planted her feet. Not expecting such a move, Clay was pulled back around to face her.

"Call me your girlfriend again," she ordered with a smile.

Clay's blue eyes popped open.

"What?!?!"

"Say I'm your girlfriend again," JB clarified. "An' gimme another kiss. An' I'll leave an' not cause any trouble."

"You _ain't_ my girlfriend," Clay stressed, staring at her in disbelief.

JB's smile dimmed slightly and a faint look of sadness crossed her features.

"I know. But . . . I just want t' hear somebody say those words, even if it is a lie. Lie t' me an' kiss me again. Then I'll leave you alone."

Clay stared at her.

Johnny Betty was asking him to lie to her? Didn't women want to hear the truth? She wanted to hear someone say she was their girlfriend and wanted another hot kiss. Idly Clay wondered if it even mattered to her who said it.

It was such a sad request the Dragon of the Earth couldn't refuse the words and damn, he did like kissing her.

Clay Bailey sighed roughly and stepped forward, gathering Johnny Betty up in his arms.

"Johnny Betty Pecos," he sighed. "My lovely ladybird."

The Apache girl gave a brilliant smile and leaned up for a kiss.

Clay accepted her gently.

For whatever reason, _this_ kiss didn't descend into a fit of wild, horny groping. They kissed. Sweetly, warmly, affectionately they kissed. Johnny Betty leaned against Clay, feeling a soft, gentle warmth bloom in her heart.

For his part, Clay stroked the gorgeous woman in his arms, petting her gently. She seemed so warm and hungry, yet so sad.

Clay felt a spark deep down.

After what seemed like ages, the two parted.

Warm brown eyes met gentle blue ones.

The building suddenly shook and began to rearrange itself. Johnny Betty looked around as the stone and metal began to shift.

"Are you doin' this, Clay?"

"No," Clay answered, glancing over at the strange geometry the building was twisting itself into. "It's a Showdown."

"You know what that means?" JB asked. "We got a few more minutes."

Clay looked at her.

Boiling chocolate, he reminded himself. Johnny Betty was as hot as hell, but nothing but trouble in tight jeans. Not to mention she dressed like a working girl.

"I gave you what you wanted," he said quietly.

JB stared at him for a long time.

"Oh. Yeah. All right, then. Well, if Jack survives, tell him I'm outside."

"I'll do that," he agreed, looking off to where the Showdown between Jack and Raimundo was starting.

Johnny Betty looked at the big cowboy one final time, then turned and walked out the door.


	2. Bring It On

Things were awkward at the next Showdown.

Chase came along for this one and soon Omi and the eternal everlord were twisting and vaulting over a magical chasm, calling out the names of the moves they used.

The other Dragons waited on ledges jutting out of the surrounding cliffs, watching intently. Jack and Wuya were also on the precarious perches.

As was Johnny Betty.

In fact, JB was on a perch very close to Clay's.

And boy, could he feel it.

The Dragon of the Earth kept his eyes locked on the competitors and tried to ignore the ripple of the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. She was staring at him; he could feel it. He could feel her dark eyes raking over him, as if committing every feature to memory.

'I shouldn't have called her my ladybird,' Clay thought. 'Now I started something I ain't sure I want to finish.'

Clay finally twisted his head around to look at her.

Johnny Betty snapped her eyes forward.

Clay blushed. She _had _been staring at him. Creepy!

JB peered up at him hesitantly.

"Did you get in trouble?" She asked.

"In trouble?" Clay echoed. "For what?"

"Your aunt said she was gonna tell your Daddy about . . . us," Johnny Betty clarified. "Did you get in trouble?"

"'Us'?" Clay echoed again. "There ain't no 'us'. An' I been dodgin' his phone calls."

"I – I just meant findin' us . . . together like that," JB clarified, wiping her palms on her jeans.

"Oh," Clay sighed. "L-listen; I think I know why you . . . kinda . . . got excited back there. You're evil an' . . m-maybe you like it when a fella . . . . . . treats you rough. Well, I ain't into that and it won't happen again, so just. . . . don't get your hopes up!"

The cowboy rushed through his impromptu speech and hazarded a look at Johnny Betty.

She was staring at him blankly, a look of pure confusion on her face.

"'Treats me rough'?" JB echoed. "When did you treat me rough?"

"In Laredo?" Clay prompted.

JB considered this tidbit of information for a moment. She gave Clay another confused look, then went back to pondering what on earth the cowboy could be talking about.

"When I grabbed you?!" he stressed.

"That?! You call that li'l squeeze bein' rough?" the black haired girl giggled, thoroughly delighted. "You are really too cute, sugar!"

Clay blushed to the tips of his ears.

"My Daddy woulda nailed my hide t' th' barn wall if'n he'd seen that," he admitted. "He taught me t' always treat ladies like ladies. Even holdin' a lady against her will like that woulda killed him. He'd'a—."

"The last guy I blew off fer a roll in th' hay punched me square in th' face," Johnny Betty announced.

Clay froze. His jaw worked soundlessly for a few moments.

"Yeah. John Bunyan; what an asshole. If'n he'd tried that shit now, I'd'a killed him but I was only fourteen at the time. I was scared. I didn't know what t' do."

Clay's jaw sagged further.

"My daddy wanted me to marry him; the Bunyans are well-respected in our circle. I told Pa I was a lesbian so he shipped me off to this anti-gay camp t' cure me. That's where I met Jack."

For the first time since the Showdown started, JB wasn't looking at Clay. She stared off in front of her, not focused on anything at all.

"When my Mama showed up again, he took me t' meet that side a' th' family. Manabozho cornered me in Grandma's home and pawed at me for a few minutes before Hinu showed up an' chas'd him off." Johnny Betty's eyebrows quirked together slightly. "For a while I thought maybe I was a lesbian, 'cause th' thought of any man havin' his way with me made me sick t' my stomach. But . . . I feel good when you touch me, Clay. An' you have kind eyes an' a gentle smile. Even if'n you don't smile at me."

JB blinked as if she had woken up from a dream and looked over at Clay. The Dragon of the Earth blushed hotly and looked down at his boots.

Kind eyes? A gentle smile? Bad girls weren't attracted to those things; smoking hot bad girls especially! What was he supposed to say? She looked so sad! But how could he smile at her when she was an enemy?! You were only supposed to laugh at enemies and after what JB had just told him about her love life; Clay'd never have the heart.

"Th-That guy," he began, his voice hoarse. "Th' one that hit you; he still alive?"

"John Bunyan? Yeah, probably," JB returned.

"If'n you ever see him again, you point him out t' me." Clay finally tore his gaze away from his toes and looked over at Johnny Betty. "I'll kill him for you."

JB snorted softly.

"Clay, darlin', you wouldn't say such things if you saw him. John's a son of the Bunyan Clan; he's ten feet tall and stronger than me."

"Don't care," Clay returned. "I've taken on bigger than that."

For a few minutes, only the sounds of the contest going on before them echoed off of the cliffs, punctuated here and there by shouts of encouragement from some of the onlookers.

"Do you always change into that get up when someone's in a Showdown?" JB asked.

Clay looked down at the mystic battle robes of the Dragon of the Earth.

"Yeah, we all do. Don'tcha like it?" He tried to inject some levity in his voice but got the feeling he failed miserably.

JB's eyes studied the dark blue robes carefully.

"You look better in your jeans and boots," she admitted. "I can't see your face in that outfit."

The black haired maven suddenly gave him a wicked smirk.

"Or your butt," she teased.

Clay's face was covered by a mask, but his ears turned a vibrant pink. His butt? She liked looking at his butt?! Lordy! Some small part of him felt proud of the fact that a good looking gal like JB was checking _him_ out, but the majority of him was mortified.

"You're cute when you blush," Johnny Betty giggled.

"N-now lookee here! You can't just -." Whatever JB couldn't do remained unsaid, because as Clay rounded on her in gentlemanly indignation, he put one foot over the edge of the ledge he stood on and pitched into the chasm.

He let out a strangled yell, but before he could summon his elemental powers, a leather lash coiled around one ankle and brought him up short.

Johnny Betty sat back on her boot heels and hauled on the end of the bullwhip that was wrapped around Clay's leg.

"Be careful!" She yelled, hauling him up like a fish on a line. Without any apparent effort on her part, she pulled him up onto the ledge with her and coiled up her whip.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Thank you," Clay panted, straightening his hat.

The big cowboy jumped when JB laid her hand on his cheek.

"Don't scare me like that, honey," she murmured softly.

The Dragon of the Earth found himself staring into a pair of warm brown eyes. They still reminded him of chocolate, only now it wasn't boiling. Now it was warm and sweet; it made him think of mugs of hot cocoa and snuggling up under cozy blankets on the couch on a cold winter day.

Johnny Betty was standing _very_ close to him now. Clay remained still until she hooked one finger in his mask and tried tugging it down.

"No, don't!" he gasped, grabbing her wrist.

The Apache girl blinked. There was a hot blush on her cheeks and Clay knew without a doubt that if she got his mask down they'd be entwined in another kissing frenzy.

"You don' like me?" She asked. "But . . . Laredo . . ."

"I – I – I don' _not_ like you," Clay protested lamely. "You confuse me, darlin'. You're Heylin. I ain't supposed t' get involved with evil girls, but – God, you're temptin'."

A tiny smile quirked JB's lips.

"I ain't _that_ evil," she offered. "Maybe I was jest led astray by bad companions."

Clay gave her a _look_.

"Somethin' tells me nobody leads you where you don' wanna go, Miss Pecos," he stated dryly.

Johnny Betty giggled at the strange endearment.

"All right, I admit it; I'm a tumbleweed. I go where ever the wind takes me. I just happened t' fetch up against Jack for a while." She paused and gave Clay a smoldering look. "Who knows where it's gonna blow me next?"

The Dragon of the Earth swallowed.

All right, so JB was hotter than a tin shed on the Fourth of July _and_ she was interested in him. Now she was pretty much admitting that she had no real commitment to the Heylin side. Maybe . . . maybe he could sweet talk her into coming over to the Xiaolin side. Then she'd be with him. Like, _with him_.

Heat washed through Clay. JB was tugging his mask down again, but this time he didn't protest.

"Darlin', you're finer than frog's hair," he growled.

Sometime in the last the couple of minutes, Chase had handed Omi's canary butt to him. Just as Johnny Betty freed Clay's mouth from the dark blue fabric, the Showdown came to an end, jerking the pair apart as the landscape returned to normal.

Clay could do little more than stare and blush as JB stood with her Heylin companions.

* * *

"I simply cannot understand Chase Young! When he wins Showdowns, he does so with such ease that I believe he is tossing the matches when he loses! Why would he do such things?" Omi ranted.

"Throwing the matches. You think he's throwing the matches. And yeah, he probably is," Raimundo corrected, scooping up more rice on his fork.

"He just does it to confuse you, Omi. Try not to over-think it," Kimiko opined.

As the yellow skinned monk returned to ranting about Chase Young, the Dragon of Fire looked over and saw something she thought she'd never see.

Clay wasn't eating.

The Dragon of Earth picked at his dinner, simply shoving the food around on his plate rather than eating.

"Clay? Are you all right?" She asked.

"Hmmm?" Clay blinked at her as though startled anyone had noticed him. "What? I'm fine, why?"

"You aren't eating," Kimiko pointed out.

This shocking announcement stopped Omi in mid-rant.

"Clay is not eating?"

"Dude, are you sick? Did you get clocked in the jaw at the Showdown?" Rai asked.

The large Texan sighed roughly.

"I ain't sick," he groused. "I was just thinking . . ."

"Did it hurt?" Rai asked.

Clay made a face and flicked a snow pea at the Dragon of Wind. The monks started to smile. Whatever was bothering the cowboy didn't seem to be too serious.

"No, I was just thinkin' about Johnny Betty," Clay announced.

All smiles fell away.

"Why would you be thinking about _her_?" Kimiko demanded.

"Perhaps because she is so pretty?" Omi suggested. The Water Warrior's lids drooped suggestively. "I often find myself thinking of pretty girls."

There was a moment of awkwardness.

"But you must not forget what happened with Dyris!" Omi snapped. "Johnny Betty Pecos is evil and cannot be trusted!"

"Exactly! No evil sluts, Clay!" Kimiko agreed.

"Seriously, dude, it's the exact same as with that evil mermaid. Well, not exactly the same. There's no tail, so there's a lot more fun to be had, but—" Raimundo ducked as Kimiko threw a butter knife at him hard enough to drive the dull blade into the wall behind him.

"JB _ain't_ the same as Dyris!" Clay snapped.

The other three warriors stared at him. Clay did not snap.

"I mean . . . . if'n you talked t' her you'd know. Dyris was all charm an' coaxed information outta us as easy as noodlin' a catfish outta his hole." Clay thought about JB and her innocent, awkward bumblings.

"Do what to a catfish's hole?" Omi wanted to know.

"Don't ask. They do things different in Texas," Rai muttered darkly.

"My point _is_: Johnny Betty's just been dealt a bad hand. I think she could be convinc'd t' switch sides."

This information was considered carefully.

"Switch sides?" Rai echoed. "As in, join the Xiaolin side?"

"Well, yeah." The first hurdle cleared, Clay hurried through the rest of his thoughts. "I talked t' her at th' last two Showdowns an' she ain't really evil! Some a' th' things she's told me . . . . th' girl's had a rough life! JB ain't got a friend in th' world an' she just happen'd fetch up against Jack. She ain't got anywhere else t' go or anyone t' turn to. If we gave her someplace t' call home . . ."

"Here?! You want to bring her back to the Temple?!" Rai squawked. "She's not even that hot!"

Clay and Omi looked at Raimundo as if he'd just said: 'The sky's not really blue!'

"If _that's _what this is all about, you have horrible taste in women!" Kimiko snarled.

"It ain't! I'm not tryin' t' bring JB to th' Xiaolin side 'cause she's beautiful! I honestly think she ain't happy workin' fer evil but she don't have a choice!" Clay protested.

"Truly?" Omi appeared to consider this. "Johnny Betty Pecos' fighting skills are formidable – though nothing _I_ couldn't best! But if she would like to turn to the side of good . . ."

"Oh _hell_ no!" Kimiko roared, starting to her feet. "You and Omi are always trying to take in stray dogs! First Vlad, then Jack – Jack _twice_ – then Dyris, now JB; how long is it going to take to figure this out?!"

"Ah, you're just jealous 'cause she has tits," Rai interjected. "But Master Fung's never going to let us try to convert another enemy."

Raimundo had a valid point about Master Fung's protestations; however, when he tossed off that casual comment about Kimiko's lack of breasts Clay and Omi both dove under the table.

"_**What. Did. You. Say?!**_" The Dragon of Fire snarled through gritted teeth.

The white-washed wall near her back started to blacken from the heat suddenly radiating from her frame.

"Er . . ." Raimundo summoned a wind to whirl around him protectively.

"Er . . . so, you believe Johnny Betty can be transformed?" Omi asked rather more quickly than the casualness of the question.

"Converted, not transformed," Clay corrected, hearing the soft 'whump!' as Kimiko ignited the oxygen in the air. "And, er, yeah, I think she can."

A spoon hurled by hurricane force winds drove through the tabletop between the two monks.

"You want to go ask Master Fung now?" the Dragon of Water inquired.

"Yeah, I think now's good!" the Dragon of Earth seconded.

A moment later they were both fleeing the dining room cum war zone.


	3. Why Does Everybody Want to Kick My Ass?

"Clay, wait; I had a thought," Omi announced.

The big cowboy bit back a witty retort.

"You saw you believe Johnny Betty Pecos could be converted to the side of good; we should find out if she is truly open to this idea," the little monk continued.

"That fer sure is a good idea, li'l partner, but I'm pretty darned sure she's willin' t' come over t' th' side a' Good," Clay offered. Yeah, if the dark and smouldery look in her eyes had been any indication, she was willing to try new things.

"We should be certain!" Omi insisted.

"All right . . . . what did you have in mind, li'l partner?"

"We should speak with her directly! Somewhere away from Chase Young and Jack Spicer!"

"That sounds like a fine idea, sure enough," Clay admitted. "How we gonna find out when and where that's going to be?"

There was a pause of only a second, and then both monks said in one voice:

"The Crystal Glasses."

* * *

Johnny Betty leaned over the leather strap in front of her, using a wooden mallet and a steel stamp to imprint a pattern on the smooth material.

"Whatcha doing?" Jack's voice asked.

Johnny Betty looked up and blinked.

Jack was standing by her elbow, looking down at her craft with interest. Just for clarification it would be noted that he was wearing nothing but an elaborate loincloth, a dog collar and a big grin.

"I'm leathertoolin' a belt. What th' hell are _you_ doing?" The dark-haired girl asked.

"Playing 'chase'," the albino youth reported with a wicked grin.

JB gave Jack's attire another long look.

"That requires a costume, does it?"

Jack giggled wickedly.

"I'm a naughty slave boy who's trying to run away from his master!" the albino reported. "If you think this is nice, you should see the altar boy costume I have! And Chase is so hot in his priest's cassock!"

The Apache girl shuddered.

"I'm surprised it don' burst int' flames when he puts it on. That's so wrong."

The tech wizard sighed and patted his bodyguard on the head condescendingly.

"Oh JB, you just have no idea," he said. "You don't even have a prospective lover. . . . maybe some day you'll understand."

Johnny Betty blushed hotly and hunched back over her belt in progress.

"_You_ find a nice, sweet, guy at least six foot an' strong enough to break through a supernaturally strong hymen an' _then_ you can nit-pick," she growled.

Jack doubled over howling with laughter.

"S-super hymen!" he squealed. "I never thought of that! B-but why does he have to be six foot?"

"I ain't datin' a guy who's shorter than me!" JB blurted, picking through her leather stamps.

"Oh man, that's priceless!"

"If you're playin' chase – an' I'm just assumin' Chase is the one doin' th' chasin' – why you hidin' in here?"

"I needed a break from running and Chase hates you," Jack reported. "This is the last place he'll look."

JB sighed again.

"Thanks, that's good t' know."

"But, eventually I _would_ look here," a mellow voice interjected.

Jack let out a delighted squeal and tried to hide behind his bodyguard.

"Eeee! Oh no, Master! Please don't beat me!" he cried melodramatically.

"You'll take whatever punishment I prescribe, cur," Chase growled.

Johnny Betty took one look at the Roman toga the ancient warrior wore and buried her face in her hands. Chase noticed the gesture.

"It is increasingly difficult to play love games with you underfoot, half-breed," he announced.

JB looked around the chamber they were gathered in, just in case it had changed in the last minute.

"This is _my_ bedroom!" She protested.

"Get out of the palace. Go hunting or something," Chase flicked his fingers and a hickory bow and quiver full of arrows appeared in JB's lap. "Hunt squirrels; they're a nuisance in the Land of Nowhere."

"Hunt squirrels? With a bow and arrow?" JB asked.

Jack snickered.

Chase raised his hand again.

"Wait! Let me get my boots on!" Johnny Betty protested. It was for naught; the next thing she knew she was in the middle of a dark, deep forest with no shoes on.

"Damn it," she sighed.

* * *

"I am . . . having second thoughts about this idea," Omi admitted, peering out of the window of the Silver Manta Ray.

"You said it yourself, partner; we need to see JB again," Clay offered, piloting the craft down low over the trees.

"I said we needed to talk with her," Omi corrected. "Although . . . . I would like to see her. She's very attractive. Um . . .this isn't close to where the squirrels were, is it?"

Clay gave his friend a sidelong look.

"Don' worry about th' squirrels, Omi," he chuckled. "You beat 'em once, you can do it again." The big cowboy gave his friend another sidelong look. "Johnny Betty sure is pretty, ain't she?"

"Oh yes!" Omi agreed. "She has large hips and a bountiful chest and she takes pleasure in showing them off!"

Clay bit back a laugh at his young friend's words. It was so funny to hear Omi going on about pretty girls and breasts and hips. After a moment, Clay's amusement died.

"I like her eyes," the Dragon of the Earth offered.

Omi turned away from the window, giving Clay a puzzled look.

"Her eyes?"

"Yeah. Don't she just have th' prettiest blue eyes you ever did see?"

Omi looked confused and for a moment Clay felt bad that he had thought his friend so shallow.

"Yes, her blue eyes are very pretty. I still prefer her chest and hips."

"Johnny Betty has brown eyes," Clay informed the smaller monk coldly.

"Who cares what color her eyes are?" The Dragon of Water asked.

The big cowboy gave his small friend a disbelieving look.

"Omi, old son, you are _never_ goin' t' have a girlfriend with that attitude!"

Before the yellow-skinned monk could ask why, Clay veered the Silver Manta Ray sharply and brought it down among the trees in the Land of Nowhere.

"You have got t' be fuckin' _KIDDING_ me!" Johnny Betty howled. "Squirrel huntin' with a bow?! I shoulda _known_!"

In hindsight, she was glad she didn't have her boots on, because it made it much easier to scale the thick, ancient trees that dominated the countryside. Strangely enough, the squirrel-like creatures that surrounded her preferred to take their fight to the ground. Maybe reaching lengths of nine feet and weighing a good three hundred pounds put a dent in their arboreal abilities.

JB leapt from branch to branch, dodging errant fireballs and trying to remember why this was better than being back home in Texas.

The Apache girl ran along a branch, intending to leap from the end for the next tree when a big boar squirrel landed heavily in front of her, making the tree sway dangerously. JB's brown eyes widened.

"They glide?!" She rolled her eyes briefly. "Of _course_ they do! Why th' hell not?!"

The creature screeched hellishly and reared up, taking in a big breath. JB knew from previous nasty experience that it was about to breath fire, but for the first time she noted two bulges at the creature's throat that pulsed alarmingly.

Not bothering the think anything through, Johnny Betty notched an arrow in her bow and put a shaft through one bulge.

The squirrelzilla howled in agony as its fire-gland was punctured, spraying chemicals across its own chest that ignited the second they hit oxygen.

Johnny Betty's moment of triumph was short-lived.

A large splash of chemicals used the shaft of the arrow as a leaping off point and followed it back to its mark. Since the dark-haired maven was barely six feet from the magically mutated squirrel, flaming slime splattered down one leg of her jeans and began burning merrily.

"Sh – shEEEEEE-Iiit!" JB shrieked, beating at the fabric frantically. In her panicked state, she slipped off of the branch she stood on and plummeted sixty feet to the ground, leaving a trail of burning denim and the sort of language that was lost on anyone who didn't have a robust country upbringing, or at least an intimate knowledge of the finer points of animal husbandry.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped she would land on something soft and cushy, but knowing her luck, she'd probably land in a briar patch.

She landed in a briar patch.

Above her, the remaining squirrels began to descend.

* * *

Clay and Omi were witness to Johnny Betty's fiery descent from the tree. When the rest of the pack began to head towards where she lay, the Dragon of Water popped out of the window of the Silver Manta Ray.

"Eye of Dashi!" he cried, shooting lightning at the creatures.

What few were shocked were enough of a warning to the others. The pack scattered, gliding off through the branches and leaving the two monks behind.

Clay guided the Silver Manta Ray down to land near where Johnny Betty was just sitting up.

"Daaaaaamn," she groaned, rubbing her limbs. "I feel like I been shot at an' missed, but shit at an' hit."

The magically induced napalm on her jeans, having guttered down briefly when she hit the ground, flared up again. JB slapped at the flames, feeling the long cords of the briar bushes tighten around her legs.

"Omi! Use th' Orb a' Tornami!" Clay cried, leaping out of the Silver Manta Ray and running towards Johnny Betty.

JB lurched, trying to roll her burning pant leg into the dirt to quell the flames. The briar vines tightened around her legs again.

"Orb of Tornami!" Omi yelled, dousing the girl in cold water.

She coughed and spluttered, shaking off excess water. Then the vines tightened around her again. With her leg not on fire, Johnny Betty could focus on the fact that they shouldn't be doing that. Not since she stopped moving.

"Johnny Betty! You okay, li'l lady?" Clay asked.

Before she could answer, the vines snapped tight around her legs and _pulled_.

JB yelped as she was dragged through the underbrush, the thorns digging into her already scorched flesh. She only had time to note that the briars were dragging her towards a hole that reminded her of a gaping maw and not in a good way.

The dark haired girl flipped onto her stomach and clawed at the dirt. Clay pounced on her and tried hauling her out of danger, only succeeding in bringing her to a halt. More vines slithered out of the underbrush towards the large Texan's feet. The Dragon of the Earth did a hasty calculation and decided to break up the tug of war at its weakest point.

One arm snugged tight around Johnny Betty's waist, Clay reached down with the other and popped open the buckle of her belt, unsnapped and unzipped her jeans in record time.

JB and Clay fell back in a heap as Johnny Betty's pants flew off down the hole, dragged there by intelligent vines. The Dragon of Earth quickly carried the stricken girl back towards the Silver Manta Ray, where Omi waited, eyeing the treetops nervously.

"Not that I'm complainin' for a second, handsome, but what are ya'll doin' here?" JB asked breathlessly.

"Lookin' for you," Clay answered honestly, setting her back on her feet. The big cowboy kept one arm around her waist and put the other hand on her hip, tilting her so he could inspect the leg that had been on fire.

He grimaced at the fresh burn marring her dusky skin.

"Oh, honey! That's going to scar!"

"I – it's okay. I don't scar easy," Johnny Betty said, more stricken by the fact that Clay had called her 'honey' than the fact that she had been injured.

"Omi, Orb a' Tornami Ice this for her!" The cowboy cried.

A small, somehow very disturbing noise came from where Omi was standing. Johnny Betty didn't even look around. She simply gave Clay a look that was very tired.

"I think today was not th' day t' wear the see-through lace panties," she confided.

Clay looked down. A second later he forced his eyes up and away, pulling the brim of his hat over his eyes.

"Omi, you turn around right now!" the Dragon of Earth hissed.

Obediently, the yellow-skinned warrior turned 360 degrees, ending up in the exact same position he started in.

"Omi!"

"Why would a girl wear such undergarments if she did not wish _someone_ to see them?" the monk inquired.

Johnny Betty said nothing, just gave Omi a mournful look and tried to cover her rear end with her hands. The quick rustle of cloth made her look around. She was startled to see Clay removing his blue shirt just as fast as he could. The blond cowboy stripped down to his undershirt and held out the other shirt, trying not to look at her.

Johnny Betty gave him a blank look. A shirt? She didn't need a shirt, she needed _pants_.

When JB didn't take the proffered garment, Clay sidled closer and carefully tied the arms around her waist. She ended up wearing a very misshapen skirt.

"Thank you," she said, at a loss for what else to say.

"What are you doin' out here all by your lonesome?" Clay asked. "Th' Land a' Nowhere's dangerous."

"I didn't get a choice. Chase told me t' go hunt squirrels an' threw me outta th' palace so he could play games with Jack."

Clay made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.

"You need t' leave those two queer ducks _right now_, darlin'" he growled. "Omi, ice this!"

With Johnny Betty's hind end covered, the yellow-skinned monk produced the Orb of Tornami and summoned a garter of ice to cover JB's burn.

"There, that should make you feel better," Omi said, patting one dusky knee.

Johnny Betty sidled away from the little monk's touch.

"Ah . . . thanks," she growled. "An' maybe I wanted t' wear pretty undies 'cause I want'd t' wear them."

The lecherous, hungry look Omi gave her made her skin crawl.

"Dagnabbit, darlin'! You ain't even got shoes on!" Clay blurted, oblivious to the tension between his two companions.

Johnny Betty looked around to the sounds of scuffing in time to see Clay slipping out of his boots.

"You put these on, honey, you can't run around out here half naked." The big cowboy set his boots on the ground right in front of JB's feet.

Johnny Betty stared at the boots as if trying to ascertain their meaning. She looked over at Clay's sock feet and his undershirt, then at the blue shirt wrapped around her waist, then back down at the boots at her feet.

It was at that moment that Johnny Betty Pecos, unwanted child of legendary heroes, ceased to simply be attracted to a sweet, cute boy and fell in love for the first time.

One broad hand nudged the small of her back as the Dragon of Earth coaxed her to step into his boots.

A lump started up in the back of her throat. JB's cheeks burned and for a moment, she was afraid she'd start crying. Clay's hand nudged her forward again and she carefully stepped into his large, well-worn boots.

"They're – they're too big," she gasped, fighting back tears.

Clay blinked in confusion at the sudden moisture in JB's eyes. Before he could ask any questions, Omi piped up.

"Clay, why do you bother giving her clothing? She clearly likes showing off her body to anyone who cares to look," the Dragon of Water declared.

JB's misty brown eyes went wide. Clay's bright blue eyes went wide as well.

Both warriors turned beet red. JB whirled towards Omi, her expression one of rage.

"I _like_ wearin' _pretty_ clothes! An' I just happen t' have a nice body! An' if you can't wrap your tiny li'l mind around _that_, then you can just—"

What Omi could do would never be known, because Clay reached over to where one of the squirrelzillas had fallen, lifted the body and tossed the still-warm corpse in front of, and partially on, the yellow-skinned monk.

The resulting scream echoed off of the trees. Omi fought his way out from under the body and tore off through the forest, rebounding off of tree trunks like a small yellow pinball.

"I'm so sorry. . . . uh, . . . we're pretty sure he has Tourette's," Clay muttered.

JB snorted.

"You're a lousy liar, Clay. He just said what he thinks," JB sighed.

The Dragon of Earth simply stood and looked at the young girl in front of him for a moment, then reached out and took her hand.

"Come with us," he murmured.

Johnny Betty took a long look into the pretty blue eyes she had just fallen in love with.

Omi floundering through the underbrush caught her attention.

"Not with him," she answered.

Clay frowned.

"Now darlin', I know hearin' Omi talk about you makes your skin crawl, but – HEY!"

The Dragon of Water was starting up the Silver Manta Ray, looking as if he had every intent of leaving his fellow warrior behind.

JB watched as Clay ran for the magical device and clambered inside just as Omi lifted off. The Silver Manta Ray flew jerkily, as if the two monks inside were fighting over the controls. Presently it made its way up and over the tree line.

Johnny Betty watched it go, and then turned her attention to the dead squirrels surrounding her. She'd have enough leather to keep her in belts and bags until she was thirty-five.


	4. Only the Lonely

" . . . and _furthermore_, any more squabbling of this sort will have you both on disciplinary training! Do I make myself clear?" Master Fung said sternly, looking down at Kimiko and Raimundo. Dojo was wrapped around his shoulders.

The Wind Dragon's hair was still smoking from various singe marks.

The Fire Dragon's hair looked as though it had gone through a wind tunnel.

They very pointedly did not look at each other.

"Yes, Master Fung," they grumbled in unison.

"Very well. Now; you say this all began over something Clay said. Where is Clay?"

Finally, Wind and Fire exchanged a look. 

"We don't know," Rai admitted. "He and Omi said they were going to see you."

"They haven't come through here," Dojo said. "We would have noticed."

"Omi has a habit of doing things in the heat of the moment," Master Fung said. "But if Clay is with him, I'm sure the cooler head will prevail."

"You got all th' manners of a diseased hog!"

"And the brain that is not in your skull but is in your pants has washed over you!" Omi retorted. 

There was a pause while Clay worked out the yellow-skinned monk's meaning.

"We're not gonna turn her t' th' Xiaolin side with you slobbering on yerself and pawin' at whatever skin you can reach!" The Dragon of Earth bellowed.

Master Fung frowned at the raised voices and strode towards the sound of the fighting teammates. Raimundo and Kimiko exchanged a look and hurried after their teacher.

"Why are you so insistent that no one take her up on the offer she so readily makes?" Omi asked, thrusting a finger at Clay.

"Offer? What offer?" the normally good natured cowboy demanded.

"She dresses in the manner of a common street sweeper! Obviously she wishes for companionship!"

"Street sweeper?" Clay echoed.

"I think he means 'streetwalker'," Kimiko said. "And judging by that, I'm guessing you guys are talking about Johnny Betty."

"Burn!" Raimundo declared.

"She – she does NOT!" Clay howled, turning red. 

"Okay, smart guy, what does she dress like?" Raimundo challenged.

Clay floundered for a moment, then rallied.

"She dresses like a model!" He insisted.

"A model streetwalker," Kim muttered.

"That is enough," Fung said quietly. "Omi, Clay, where did the two of you disappear to?"

Earth and Water fell silent, both studying their respective footwear.

"Omi?" The teaching monk prompted.

"Um . . . . we went to the Land of Nowhere, Master Fung," Omi admitted in a small voice.

"I see. And _why_ did you do this particularly foolish thing?" Fung asked.

"We . . . ah . . . we went t' find Johnny Betty," Clay blurted. "We were tryin' t' talk her int' joinin' th' Xiaolin side." The big cowboy suddenly frowned and glared at Omi. "She woulda come with us if somebody hadn't scared her off with his pawin' an' droolin'!"

"_You_ were the one who removed her trousers!" Omi pointed out.

All eyebrows shot for the ceiling.

"They were on fire!" Clay retorted. "I only took 'em off t' keep her from bein' et by killer brambles! _You_ were th' one who forgot how t' use his element t' ice up her burned leg!"

"Oh yes? If you had seen what I saw through those sheer, lacy under things, I would have liked to seen how easily _you_ could have become like stone!"

Rai broke up the shouting match by guffawing rudely at Omi's inadvertent double entendre. Clay blushed hotly. 

"Omi, Clay! That is enough!" Fung snapped. "While I look forward to hearing about your trip into the Land of Nowhere in minute detail, right now I would like to speak with Clay in private. Follow me, young Dragon of the Earth."

The teaching monk turned and walked back into his office, expecting Clay to follow him without protest. The big cowboy did so.

"Oooo, Clay's in trouble," Rai snickered.

* * *

�

"And since Chase has the market cornered on ancient warrior's turned into jungle cats, I thought: What about ferocious jungle cat _robots_? Ingenius, n'cest pas?"

"Yep."

"So! I just need to reconfigure the walking program to deal with four legs instead of two and voila: The Jack Spicer trademarked war beast robots! Patent pending," Jack added.

"Cool."

"Of course, it not just walking, it's running and pouncing and slashing with the claws . . . . we might need a while to beta this," Jack continued.

"Mercy."

Stretching, Jack looked up from his half-finished tactical warbot to where his bodyguard sat at a tiny corner of his workbench, a pair of glasses perched on her nose and an expanse of leather under her hands.

"You haven't heard a word of this, have you?"

"Nope, I stopped listening hours ago," JB answered.

Jack snorted softly and rubbed his neck again.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," he said, walking over to take a look at his bodyguard's newest project.

"I don't; these are those special magnifyin' kind you get at craft stores for really tiny work," JB said, pushing said glasses up on her forehead and rubbing her eyes. 

Jack took the opportunity to look over her shoulder. 

Johnny Betty had a boot on her lap. She had drawn a rough sketch on the well-worn leather that covered the calf and was now carefully stitching tiny, tiny glass beads over the designs.

"Hmmm. Damn, you've got some big boots," Jack muttered.

JB paused and sighed.

"Yes, Jack, I wear a men's size thirteen," she sighed.

"_Men's_ size thirteen?" The albino took a quick look at JB's feet. One propped-up cowboy boot proudly bore the emblem '9' on the sole.

"So who's boots are those?"

"Somebody else's."

"A _maaaaaan's_?" Jack cooed.

"Maybe," Johnny Betty conceded, a smile quirking the corner of her mouth.

"OOooooo! Is he cute? Do I know him? Does he have a nice ass? How'd you get his boots? Is he hung like a horse?" Jack settled in a nearby chair for the closest thing he got to girl talk when Matty wasn't around.

"Yes, very. No. Yes. When he saw me out huntin' with no shoes on he gave me th' boots right off his own feet an' I don't know yet, but I got high hopes." JB flipped her glasses back down and went to work on the boots.

"He gave you his shoes when he saw you didn't have any? Damn, that's sweet. What's his name?"

For a second, JB hesitated. 

"I ain't tellin' you," she said.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"If I don't know him, what's the harm in telling me his name?" he challenged, proving he wasn't as much of a spazz as everyone thought.

"You _might_ meet 'im, and then I'd prefer you not makin' an ass of yourself and me in th' process," JB lied easily. In truth, she didn't know how Jack and, by extension, Chase would deal with her falling in love with a good guy.

Jack stared at her for a long, long time. 

Johnny Betty ignored him and continued her beading.

"Well," the tech wizard sighed after a long time. "He must be pretty special if you're going to all that time and effort to decorate his boots."

"He is," JB confirmed.

"He must be flattered, all that fine needle-work going to waste on his footwear."

"He don't know I'm doin' it," the dark haired girl said, not pausing for a second.

"He doesn't _know_!" Jack said in shock. "Shit, JB, just this morning you were talking about not having _any_ romantic prospects and now you're beading some dude's moccasins like a good little squaw? Did you fall in love _today_ or something!"

Johnny Betty lurched to her feet, dropping the boot onto the floor. She reached over and grabbed Jack's T-shirt in one fist and hauled him up on his feet.

"Do _NOT_ _**EVER**_ call me that again!" She roared. The intimidation factor was dampened only slightly be the fact that she still wore her magnifying glasses.

"C-c-c-call you what? A squaw? Isn't that what you call an Indian woman?" Jack stammered.

"Only if you refer to all white women as _cunts_!" JB spat, releasing her hold on Jack's shirt.

The tech genius collapsed back into his chair.

"That's what it means? Damn! Well, now I've got another way to push your buttons," He chuckled wickedly.

Johnny Betty ignored him, gathering up her boot and beads with as much dignity as she could muster.

* * *

�

When Clay emerged from Master Fung's office, the irritated, frustrated warrior that had entered was gone. If anything, the Dragon of the Earth looked like he has seen a ghost. The Texan wandered out towards the courtyard like he was in a daze.

Raimundo was sprawled out in a sunny room, playing video games on the hand-held game system Kimiko had given him for his birthday. When a large shadow crossed the doorway leading into the courtyard, Rai looked up just in time to see Clay's back disappearing behind the other door jam.

The Wind Dragon paused his game and ran after his friend.

"Dude! Did Master Fung totally ream you or what?" He called.

Clay didn't answer, just kept lurching forward in a stiff-legged gait reminiscent of a zombie. . . . or, given Clay's size, Frankenstein's monster.

"Dude?" Rai quickly caught up to the Earth Dragon and got a good look at his face. The Brazilian paused and let Clay continue on in his lurching, hobbling gait. The big Texan made his way to one of his favorite spots; the temple gardens. Clay leaned back against the trunk of an old pear tree and let his legs slide forward until his butt thumped against the ground.

Then he simply stared off into the distance.

"What's up with Clay?" Kimiko asked, coming up behind Rai. "Don't tell me he's pouting because Master Fung chewed him out."

"I don't think so," Raimundo said. "I think something's really wrong."

"He'd better not be mooning over that redskin skank," Kim snorted.

Raimundo blinked and looked over at the Japanese girl.

"Y'know, my grandfather's an Aztec."

"I though the Aztecs all died off hundreds of years ago," Kimiko said, returning Raimundo's sidelong look.

"The civilization died out; the _people_ are still around," Rai corrected.

"Whatever; I'm going to grab the Manchurian Musca and listen in on Omi's turn to get reamed." This said, the Dragon of Fire went back into the temple.

Across the courtyard, the pear tree started to shed leaves like it was autumn. A few half-grown pears thumped to the grass, which started to acquire brown patches. The Earth Dragon's depression was spreading to his native element. Rai sighed. He'd better do something before Clay's funk wiped out the gardens.

The Dragon of Wind crossed the courtyard and sat next to his friend under the ailing pear tree.

"You look like hell," he said without preamble.

Clay didn't answer, just kept staring straight ahead.

"I know you're not sulking 'cause Master Fung yelled at you. What's the matter?"

Again, no answer.

Rai pulled his knees up to his chest and crossed his arms on them.

" . . . . so . . . maybe it's Johnny Betty. Don't tell me you actually fell in love with her?"

"mmm . . . ah'on't think so," Clay muttered hoarsely.

"Oh . . . kay," Rai said. "That kinda ran through my list of things that could be wrong. You want to throw me a bone here?"

Clay gave a sigh that seemed to come from his toes.

"We're monks."

"Uh . . . . yeah? You just figured that out?"

The big Texan stared off across the vegetable plot that was even now starting to wilt under weight of his feelings.

"Monks . . . vow of celibacy . . ."

"Oh please! Don't tell me you're letting _that_ get you down! You know me an' Kim sneak off for a little somethin' somethin' on a regular basis. Dude, if you're horny, next time ditch Omi and you can go knock boots with your little . . . . your _big_ Amazon booty," Raimundo snorted.

"Shut up, you dumbass," Clay growled softly.

Rai was too shocked by the fact that that Clay had just said a bad word, much less had just called _him_ a bad word to protest.

"Sex ain't th' problem. _Children_ are th' problem."

"Holy shit, you got her pregnant! Damn, that was quick! Nice!" Rai cried, punching the larger monk on the shoulder.

"I didn't get 'er pregnant, Rai!" Clay cried. "That's the problem! Wait, no, that ain't the problem! I mean . . . . we ain't even gone that far yet!"

"Yet?"

"Shut up! _I_ have t' carry on the Bailey family name! Jessie can't do it 'cause she'll take her husband's name! If'n the Bailey family is gonna _stay_ th' Bailey family, _I_ have t' have children! Do you understand, _now_?" Clay demanded.

The Dragon of the Wind stared at his teammate for a few minutes.

"Dude, you're worrying about that now?" Raimundo rolled his eyes and lurched to his feet. "Clay, do yourself a favor: go get laid, cheer up and stop killing the garden!"

The Shoku leader strode back across the courtyard.

Clay watched him go sadly.

"_I_ have t' have children," he repeated to himself. "Which means I can't stay here."


	5. Standing Outside the Fire

The crickets sounded different here

The crickets sounded different here.

Clay had noticed the first night in China that the buzz and whirr of nighttime insects was different than what he had grown used to back in Texas, but he had gotten used to the Chinese night noises. For some reason, now they sounded strange, alien.

Clay sighed, staring up at the ceiling above his sleeping stall.

After Master Fung had dropped that bombshell on him about being banned from breeding, Clay had been hit with a massive wave of homesickness.

The truth be told, his teammates hadn't been that consoling; they'd just forbidden him from going near the gardens and given him his space.

So began a long two weeks of rough sighs, deep silence and restless nights.

Rai and Kimiko accused him of being a drama queen, but if life was meant to be lived without knowing the love of another, of knowing them and becoming their partner and starting a family of his own, then what was the point?

Now he knew why steers just stood around and ate after they had their balls chopped off.

Food had been a great consolation to him, as always.

Of course Rai had started up with the fat jokes again.

The scrawny Brazilian had always picked on Clay about his weight; at first it had simply been the ribbing the big Texan had gotten used to back home but it just gotten _old_. He _wasn't_ fat, damnit, he was just big and muscular, so of course he had to be a big, stupid, gluttonous oaf.

If Raimundo hurled one more barb about love handles his way, Clay swore he wouldn't be responsible for his actions.

The Dragon of Earth sighed and rolled off of his sleeping mat; it looked like it was going to be another night of reading.

Clay dug a book of cowboy poetry out of his chest and headed out where he could turn on a light without disturbing his teammates.

The large Texan padded out onto the large enclosed porch. It was warm out; not quite at the height of summer when it would nearly be too hot to breathe, but comfortable enough to sit outside in his pajamas and read.

He was just reaching for the string for the overhead light when his tiger instincts kicked in.

Someone was nearby; someone who was trying their utmost to be unnoticed; someone who didn't ibelong here/i.

It had been observed before that Clay could move very quietly for a man his size. Even with that knowledge, it was almost frightening how a big, fair-skinned, blonde haired man in black lounge pants and a loud green T-shirt bearing a picture of a combine and the phrase 'Midwest Choppers' could melt into the shadows.

For several long, quiet minutes, there was nothing out of the ordinary in the sleeping Temple.

Then a startled cricket choked on its song.

The next few moments were a confused mixture of strike, block, dodge, and jab as Clay attacked the figure that had startled the cricket out of its singing.

Then he finally got a good look at who he was attacking by the light of the moon.

"Johnny Betty!"

JB crouched in a defensive stance; a bulky package tucked under one arm. In concession to the warm weather and the need to stay quiet and unseen, she had left off her cowboy boots for a pair of over-the-knee lace-up moccasins, traded her black jeans in for dark blue jean shorts and wore a simple black tank top.

In hindsight, Clay would wonder why she wore her hair loose if she was trying to stay cool, but in hindsight the question would be answered for him.

"What in tarnation are you doin' here, darlin'?"

Johnny Betty blinked big dark eyes at him and blushed.

"Uh . . . . um . . . . I'm . . . uh . . ." she stammered, toying with her hair nervously.

"If'n you came here t' steal Shen-Gong-Wu, I won' go easy on ya, darlin', as much as it pains me t' say . . ." Clay trailed off.

JB was holding out her package, her eyes on the ground. The Apache girl wore a tortured expression that looked as though she would start crying or throw up, or possibly both at the same time, at any given moment.

"B-brought yer boots back," she whispered.

Clay blinked.

In the dim light, he could now make out the shape of the boots he had loaned to Johnny Betty, laced together by the pull-holes with a strip of rawhide.

The large Texan squinted.

They were his boots, all right, but there seemed to be something on the calf, some sort of decoration . . . .

Clay reached out and took his boots. He backed up a few steps until he could reach the string for the porch light and clicked it on. Both Western warriors flinched at the sudden, bright light, but when Clay blinked back the pain, he was greeted by the sight of intricate Native American beading picking out a stylized geometric pattern that . . . well, it almost reminded him of corn stalks, or maybe it was supposed to be cactus?

There was a certain elegance to the geometric pattern; it was bold and masculine, but somehow JB had managed to incorporate a certain sweeping stroke to the lines.

It was really beautiful.

Some part of Clay's mind wanted to know how he was supposed to explain his beautiful boots to his teammates, but he realized that all the beading was restricted to the calf; with his jeans pulled down over the boots, the decoration would never show.

Why would JB put so much work into something only the two of them would know about?

She was staring at him now; practically holding her breath out of sheer nervousness.

"Did you do this?" Clay asked.

Johnny Betty nodded.

"Yup. I made it for you," she admitted in a tiny voice.

'She made that for you; she put a lot of work into it," Clay thought to himself. 'You say something really nice about it.'

"They're beautiful, darlin'," he admitted. "Thank you."

JB grinned desperately, obviously relieved beyond belief.

Clay started to look back down at the boots in his hands, but he was tackled by nearly two hundred pounds of Texas termagant. JB threw her arms around his neck and brought their mouths together with bruising force and 'clack' of teeth.

The newly-decorated cowboy boots dropped from Clay's hands and he grabbed Johnny Betty by the shoulders and wrenched her away.

"OW! Stop that! Calm down!" He yelped.

"S-sorry!" JB squeaked, her eyes wide.

A hot blush hit the girl's face and the Dragon of Earth got the distinct impression she regretted her hasty hug and kiss.

"Now, now . . . don't look like that. Just . . . calm down . . ." Clay moved his hands from her shoulders, bringing them up to cup JB's face gently. "Calm down . . . ."

Large hands, hands that had learned to push pass the boundaries of what was physically possible and break stone and smash rock, rubbed and massaged the dark-haired maven's cheeks and neck gently.

Johnny Betty's brown eyes – in the low light there seemed to be a touch of gold in there somewhere, like honey and chocolate mixed together – calmed and stilled, her eyelids drooping low.

"Easy . . ." Clay murmured, his voice going soft and deep. "Eeeeaaaaasy . . . . you're all right. You're all right."

JB hummed softly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Are you gentlin' a horse, or holdin' a girl?" JB teased.

Clay snorted softly, half-embarrassed at being caught using equestrian techniques on a pretty girl.

"Is it workin'?" he inquired, taking a step closer.

"It's workin'," she assured him, leaning into the gentle press of his hands.

"Well then, I'm holdin' a pretty girl," Clay said, still keeping his voice at the softest and lowest register.

"I wasn't sure you'd like it," JB admitted. "I was scared."

"Oh, don' be like that," Clay said, a slight frown creasing his brow. "I don' want you t' _ever_ be afraid a' me, li'l lady."

Still being petted and rubbed by Clay's large hands, JB let her eyes drift closed.

"I ain't scared a' you, Clay," the Apache warrior let out a soft, blissful sigh. "Right about now I think I'd let you strap a saddle t' me an' ride of int' th' sunset."

Clay snorted with laughter.

"I always feel safe with you," JB continued, her eyes still closed. "I never felt like this around nobody; I was always wary an' . . . . didn't think I could trust 'em. . . . . experience's kinda held that feelin' up. But not you. I always feel so comfortable with you . . . . so safe . . . . like I belong here."

Clay wasn't sure what to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all. The large Texan kept looking down into the face of the beautiful young girl who had carefully beaded beautiful designs on his boots . . . . he knew intricate detailing like that cost a couple thousand dollars. JB didn't have that kind of money, so she had done it with her own two hands.

She had made it for him; she had designed and stitched and strung the beads all on her own. It had been a labor of love.

Clay tugged her gently forward, his breath catching in his throat.

A labor of love . . . ? Clay Bailey was a warrior monk; he was forbidden from knowing the pleasures of the flesh, much less the love of a woman. Johnny Betty Pecos here . . . what was she offering with her present? Was she offering to love him?

Clay dropped one thumb down to stroke it over the petal-soft curve of JB's plush lower lip. A tiny, feminine gasp shot past her lips. Clay could feel her face heat as she blushed.

She didn't open her eyes, though.

If she had, Clay might not have taken the initiative to tug her another step closer, until her lovely, firm breasts were pressed against his chest, until all he had to do to press his lips to hers was lower his head slightly.

Letting his own eyes drift closed, Clay lowered his head.

His lips pressed gently against JB's, delivering soft, tender kisses on her barely parted lips before deepening the kiss. One of those incredible, intoxicating female noises of arousal escaped from JB. The Dragon of the Earth snaked his arms around her tightly, squeezing her to his chest.

She had said she felt like she belonged with him; by his side. If that wasn't the beginning of love, what was it?

They gently parted, still holding each other close and gazing at each other under the porch light.

Clay stroked a hand over JB's cheek again, letting his fingers tangle in her long black hair. She had such beautiful hair . . . he would have to give her a gift of something for her hair.

Yeah; hair decorations! What else did girls like? Let's see, flowers, candy . . . clothes? Well, maybe not JB; she didn't seem to pay much attention to clothes and makeup.

"Oh!" Clay said out loud. He looked around the porch and quickly released JB to pick up his book.

"What is it?" Johnny Betty asked. "Is someone coming?"

"No; come here," Clay sat on one of the steps of the porch and gestured for JB to join him. "Come here; I wanna show you somethin'."

Johnny Betty did so, sitting on the porch at a respectable distance from Clay. After a moment he scooted closer to her.

"I wanna . . . I wanna read ya my favorite poem," the Earth warrior admitted.

He was more than a little hesitant to admit it; boys weren't supposed to like poetry, tough cowboys especially. He had gotten more than a few 'Brokeback' jokes when Rai had seen him reading a book of poetry.

"Your favorite poem?" JB asked.

Clay flipped through the book until he found the aforementioned poem. After a moment's hesitation, he slipped one arm around the dark haired girl next to him.

"'Mornin' in th' Desert:

Mornin' on the desert, and the wind is blowin' free,  
And it's ours, jest for the breathin', so let's fill up, you and me.  
No more stuffy cities, where you have to pay to breathe,  
Where the helpless human creatures move and throng and strive and seethe.'"

Johnny Betty relaxed against him, laying her head against his shoulder and gazing at the larger Texan like he had just sprouted wings and a halo.

"'Mornin' on the desert, and the air is like a wine,  
And it seems like all creation has been made for me and mine.  
No house to stop my vision, save a neighbor's miles away,  
And a little 'dobe shanty that belongs to me and May.

Lonesome? Not a minute: Why I've got these mountains here,  
That was put here just to please me, with their blush and frown and cheer.  
They're waiting when the summer sun gets too sizzlin' hot,  
An' we jest go campin' in 'em with a pan and coffee pot."

Now she started to look at the book in Clay's hands, a smile tugging at her lips.

"'Mornin' on the desert-- I can smell the sagebrush smoke.  
I hate to see it burnin', but the land must sure be broke.  
Ain't it jest a pity that wherever man may live,  
He tears up so much that's beautiful that the good God has to give?

"Sagebrush ain't so pretty?" Well, all eyes don't see the same,  
have you ever seen the moonlight turn it to a silvery flame?  
An' that greasewood thicket yonder -- well, it smells jest awful sweet,  
When the night wind has been shakin' it -- for its smell is hard to beat.

Lonesome? Well, I guess not! I've been lonesome in a town.  
But I sure do love the desert with its stretches wide and brown.  
All day through the sagebrush here the wind is blowin' free.  
An' it's ours jest for the breathin', so let's fill up, you and me.'"

For a minute or so, there was no sound but the night insects.

"That was beautiful," JB said, wonder in her voice. "When ya think of poetry, y'think a' daffodils an' 'thy' an', an', an' borin' stretches where some fella goes on about some girl in language ya can't hardly understand. But that was . . . that was how it really is when you're out on yer own, just you and the wind an' sky an' good, clean dirt . . ."

Clay felt a smile stretch his lips. He never thought he'd hear the phrase 'clean dirt' out of anyone. He didn't think anyone would understand how dirt could be clean. Internally, the Dragon of Earth parceled out a piece of his heart to a girl he had once considered nothing but trouble.

"That's cowboy poetry, li'l darlin'," Clay murmured. "This is an old one . . . writt'n anonymously, but ev'ry time I hear it, th' person recitin' it's got th' same look on their face as you got right now; like they wrote and lived every syllable an' maybe invent'd th' alphabet, too."

Johnny Betty grinned at him.

"'Invent'd th' alphabet'; list'n t' you!" She swatted him playfully on the arm. Clay responded by hugging her tight, pulling her against himself too tightly for her to even think about striking him, even in jest, and somehow, they were kissing again.

The book slipped to the steps of the porch as the two young warriors kissed passionately. One of Clay's hands found itself on JB's thigh and delighted in the soft, warm, and above all, _bare_ skin it found there. The dark haired girl gave a startled jump; like she wasn't used to someone touching her that way, but didn't protest. Johnny Betty's hands were skimming over his chest, scratching lightly with her nails as she felt his muscles through his T-shirt.

Clay finally broke the kiss, but only so he could let his mouth rove down her long neck. Some deep down male instinct pointed out that there were better things to touch than her thigh and only a few inches higher in those totally 'grab here' booty shorts.

Oh, he shouldn't . . . it wasn't very gentlemanly to grab a lady's tush on the first . . . . no, the second heavy make out session.

Then Johnny Betty's fingers stole up under his T-shirt to skate lightly over his bare chest.

The practical part of Clay's mind pointed out that, all things being equal, if JB got to feel up his chest, it was only fair that he got to touch her luscious moneymaker.

Slowly, expecting a slap in the face at any given moment, Clay let his hand creep upwards until he had one round, plump cheek cupped in his palm. JB let out a soft, delighted squeak and wriggled against him in a way that made his blood heat up fast.

"Dragon of the Earth."

At those soft words, Clay and Johnny Betty shot away from each other, trying to tug their clothing back into something resembling order.

"Um . . . howdy, Master Fung, sir," Clay squeaked, hazarding a peek at the teaching monk.

Master Fung descended the stairs and looked sharply at first Clay, then at Johnny Betty. JB tried to comb her fingers through her hair. Clay, Master Fung couldn't help but notice, stood with both hands clasped strategically in front of him.

"To what do we owe this late night visit, Miss Pecos?" Master Fung asked coldly.

"I . . I . . . brought back Clay's boots," JB gestured to where Clay's boots had fallen after she'd tackled him.

"I see. Well, I'm sure Clay is most grateful for the return of his footwear. Good night, young lady," Master Fung stated primly.

"Um, good night," she murmured.

The Apache girl cast a warm look at Clay, then turned to go.

"Wait!" Clay left his spot by the teaching monk and grabbed Johnny Betty by the shoulders and turned her back to face Master Fung. "Master Fung, please, y'have t' let JB stay here! She ain't evil! She don't need t' stay with them low-down snakes!"

"She has made the choice to side with Evil, Clay," Master Fung said firmly. "I don't know what her reasoning is –"

"Too bad she ain't here; we could ask her," Johnny Betty said dryly.

If anything, Master Fung's expression grew more stormy.

"But Master Fung-!" Clay protested.

Johnny Betty sighed and turned back towards the big cowboy.

"Naw, it's all right, Clay. He ain't gonna change his mind about me." JB suddenly looked up at the big cowboy through her lashes. "Thank you for th' poem. An' for likin' my beadin'."

She was standing very close to Clay now. You'd have to be blind and deaf not to notice the flirtatious stance she was in, or the coy look in her eyes.

Master Fung was glaring at the girl. He muttered something under his breath and Clay felt himself go cold.

The teaching monk had only muttered it, and it had been in Chinese, but Clay could have sworn he'd said: 'I lose more monks to whores than evil.'

Abruptly, Clay was pissed off.

It took a lot to make him angry, but now he was. So Master Fung thought JB was a whore? Why; because she was sexy? She couldn't like a boy without being labeled a slut? Kimiko and Rai flirted worse than what she was doing now and the teaching monk had never said the first word about it.

JB dropped out of her flirty pose as she caught the look on Clay's face.

"He don't like me, does he? That's all right; nobody does," she said quietly.

"_I_ like you, darlin'!" Clay insisted. Without a care for Master Fung – or maybe _because_ Master Fung was watching – the Dragon of Earth grabbed JB by the shoulders and laid a hot kiss on her plush lips.

The young maid squeaked in shock.

Her brown eyes rolled towards Master Fung briefly, but Clay tightened his hold and deepened his kiss.

Johnny Betty went limp against the warrior in loving submission.

"What's going on? Why are the lights still . . . . . on?" Kimiko's voice trailed off as she beheld Clay and JB in a tight clinch.

The Japanese girl's mouth hung slack as she saw how the normally sedate Dragon of the Earth gripped and squeezed his paramour firmly, powerfully, with a dominance she'd never seen before.

Clay glanced up through the hanging shag of blonde hair and his blue eyes flashed with defiance.

Then the cowboy ripped his mouth from Johnny Betty's. For a moment, the Apache girl hung limp in his grasp, a hot blush on her cheeks and a thoroughly goofy grin on her face.

Kimiko looked at the blissful grin on Johnny Betty's face.

She tried to remember if she'd ever felt that wonderfully gooey after a kiss from Rai.

"D-Damn, Clay . . . . ." JB drawled, getting her feet back under her.

Clay smiled benevolently at the girl in his arms. He didn't look like the shy, sedate warrior Kimiko had trained with for over four years; he looked like a strong, confidant man.

"It's getting late, li'l darlin'," He murmured in a smoky voice. "Since you isn't welcome here," Clay voice took on a sudden edge as he shot a killing look at Master Fung, then softened again as he looked back at JB. "Maybe you'd best run along home."

The Apache girl sighed, gazing at Clay in total smit.

"All right, handsome. If'n you say so," she replied breathlessly.

The dark haired girl suddenly hitched up to peck at Clay's lips before she peeled herself off of his chest. Johnny Betty hopped down from the porch, paused to wave at Clay, loped across the lawn, turned, somersaulted, pushed up hard when she landed on her feet and easily sprang up over the twelve foot wall that ran around the Temple grounds. She landed on her hands on the red tile cap that ran over the wall and pushed up again, flipping back upright to (presumably) drop back down to the ground.

Abruptly, Kimiko hated her.

She hated the Texan for being tall and curvy. She hated her for being super strong. She hated her for being satisfied with brown eyes and black hair. And she really, really hated JB for seeing through the boy Clay had been to the man that lurked within.

Kimiko wanted that man; she wanted the blue fire that lurked deep down.

Clay walked a few steps forward to pick up his boots, then simply paused, one hand on his hip, and stared at Master Fung.

"Well, Clay, it seems you have more energy than you know what to do with. In the morning, we shall have to see what we can do about that."

"I reckon we will," Clay growled. His eyes drifted down to the Dragon of Fire. "Sorry I woke ya up, Kimiko. Go back t' sleep."

Clay headed back to the sleeping stalls. As he passed Kimiko, he reached over and ruffled her hair affectionately.

Now Kimiko hated Clay.

You didn't ruffle the hair of a young woman; you ruffled the hair of a _child_. He didn't see her as a woman; he saw her as a little girl.

The Dragon of Fire glared at Clay as he continued down the hallway.

Of course he wouldn't want _her_, the woman he had fought and worked with for four years; he wanted some redneck bimbo with huge breasts and a big butt who couldn't even make up her mind whether she was on the side of good or evil.

Master Fung sighed, looking down at Kimiko.

"I fear Clay is going to seriously regret this," the teaching monk said mournfully.

"Yes," Kimiko said with a strange intensity. "Yes, he is."


	6. Homesick

"Clay? Just because the other monks are finished training does not mean you are," Master Fung said primly.

The big cowboy sighed. He wasn't really surprised; he knew Master Fung would be enacting some sort of punishment for daring to kiss a girl. The other monks gave him looks that varied from confusion to sympathy.

Clay followed Master Fung back into the courtyard and was startled to see Master Monk Guan waiting.

"Master Monk Guan? What are you doin' here, sir?"

"Master Fung has told me of your . . . . distraction. I'm here to help you train a little harder," the ancient warrior said calmly.

"Master Monk Guan was the Dragon of Earth long ago," Master Fung added. "He can help you advance your elemental powers."

"That's right nice a' ya, Master Monk Guan, sir," Clay said politely. "But if'n you think you can just i_exhaust_/i me int' forgettin' about girls in general an' JB in particular, ya got another think comin'."

The two teaching monks stared at the blonde for a moment.

"We shall see," Master Monk Guan said quietly.

"Clay? Your father is on the phone again and he says he will not hang up until you speak with him," Master Fung announced.

Clay nodded and dragged himself into the teaching monk's office. The receiver was sitting next to the phone, because Master Fung had never bothered to learn how to put people on hold. The big Texan closed the door behind him and picked up the receiver.

"Hello, Daddy."

"It's about damn time! You ever avoid talkin' t' me like that again an' I'll tan your hide! You'll find yourself on the first plane back t' Texas so fast it'll make your head spin!" His father's deep baritone bellowed.

Clay was silent for a minute.

"How are things back home?" He asked softly.

There was a pause on Mr. Bailey's end.

"Are the new calves on th' ground yet?" Clay asked. "I bet the mulberry trees are bloomin' now. It's almost time for Founder's Day in Abilene, ain't it? Remember how we us'd t' go see th' cowboy poets at th' Western Heritage Classic an' Mama an' Jessie always us'd t' roll their eyes an' say how sensitive th' Bailey men were?"

"Dang, Clay," Mr. Bailey said quietly. "You're makin' me homesick an' I i_am_/i home."

A small, sad sound escaped from the Dragon of Earth's throat.

"Wait a minute," Mr. Bailey growled, some of the thunder coming back to his voice. "You was in Laredo a few weeks ago! Your Aunt Clarabelle saw you there with some girl!"

"Oh, that," Clay murmured.

"Yes, i_that_/i. Clarabelle said she look'd like she was on th' job, but you tried t' pass her off as your girlfriend! Do you know how upset your Mama was that you come back t' Texas an' didn't stop t' see her?!"

"I'm sorry, Daddy!" Clay blurted. "We was Shen-Gong-Wu huntin'!"

"An' that Tejano girl?" Mr. Bailey prompted.

"What Tejano girl? Wait; JB ain't Tejano! She's Native American!"

"JB? What's that stand for, Jo Beth?"

"Johnny Betty."

"Well, I can't see anybody fakin' a name like that," Mr. Bailey growled.

Clay made an irritated noise.

"Why's everybody say that?! Johnny's a cute name on a girl! There's boys named Terry an' Kim an' Kelly; why not a girl named Johnny?!"

Eight thousand miles away, unseen by his son, Ward Bailey raised an eyebrow. His boy had always been laid back to the point of being a push-over. When Clay protested about something, it was usually because that particular nerve had been worked to the point of rawness.

"She's Native American? What tribe?" Ward asked.

"Uh . . . ." Why did people want to know all the gritty details? "I . . . don't know," Clay admitted.

"What i_do_/i ya know about her?"

"I know she's a sweet girl who's been dealt a bad hand and just needs a damn chance!"

"I heard this all from my own sister, Clay. You callin' your Aunt Clarabelle a liar?" Bailey Senior challenged.

"I ain't callin' Aunt Clarabelle a liar! She just don' know th' whole story!" Clay insisted.

"So what i_is_/i th' whole story?"

Clay hesitated, but slowly told his father about Johnny Betty. He explained how she had fallen in with Jack after escaping from an anti-gay camp; a camp she'd only been sent to because her father's choice of a potential husband for her had damn near scared her lesbian. He explained about their first meeting, and how he had insisted she was finer than the company she now kept. The tension between them had erupted in Laredo and Clay had found himself with a gorgeous Native girl in his arms, locked in a tight clinch when his Aunt Clarabelle had walked in.

The Dragon of Earth explained that he'd made it his mission to bring JB over to the side of good, but every time he tried, his fellow monks either turned up their noses at the idea of converting her, or slobbered over her like she was a pin-up calendar. The sneering hurt Johnny Betty's feelings, while the slobbering reminded her of the rough handling she'd received from her former affianced.

Either way, she seemed to have latched on to Clay as the only person she truly trusted or opened up to.

"I see. . . . ." the elder Bailey said quietly. "So, what do you think a' her?"

"What?" Clay had just spent fifteen minutes talking about JB; how could his father not know how he felt.

"Well, d'ya like her? You know she likes you; do you feel th' same way about her?" Mr. Bailey asked. "Or is it just sympathy?"

Clay blinked.

He had never really thought about it before; he knew he wanted JB to not be evil. The last time they had met, though . . . . he had held her and kissed her and it had been wonderful. But . . . had that just been the pleasure of kissing a beautiful girl? How would he know the difference?

"'Clean dirt'," he murmured to himself.

"What?"

"She said 'clean dirt'," Clay murmured. "She understands about th' beauty a' livin' out in th' country. She's sweet. She's strong. An' she's a real good kisser. I'm not gonna get silly an' say I'm in love with her . . . . but I think I could, given time."

Mr. Bailey considered this.

"Be real careful, Clay," the big cattleman said. "You always been soft-hearted. Make sure this Lonesome Dove don't break your heart."

"I'll be careful, Daddy," he said quietly.

"See that you do," Mr. Bailey said. "Tell your friends I said 'Hey'."

"I will. Bye, Daddy!"

"Good bye, Clay," Mr. Bailey said. "Take care. Love ya, boy."

"Love you, too, Daddy," Clay returned.

The Dragon of the Earth hung up the phone feeling lighter inside than he had in a long time.

"Through meditation and stillness do we reach the state of zen. Through focus and zen, we can reach beyond our physical bodies and see the infinite. Through many, many years of focus, we can achieve enlightenment. But we can only achieve enlightenment by ignoring the physical," Master Monk Guan intoned, keeping himself balanced in the full lotus position even though the platform he sat on heaved and trembled.

"I don't agree," Clay managed to gasp.

The master monk raised an eyebrow.

"You don't agree? Clay, you i_do_/i know the Four Noble Truths of Zen; recite them for me."

"i_Hah_/i, Life is sufferin'," Clay panted, sweat rolling down his face. "Sufferin' is caused by selfish cravin'. Selfish cravin' can be overcome. An' th' Eightfold Path t' overcome sufferin'."

"Very good," Guan said, nodding. "And what i_is_/i the Eightfold Path?"

"R-right understanding. Right purpose. Right speech. Right con-i_duct_/i. Right livelihood. Right effort. Right alertness. Right concentration," Clay grunted, toiling and laboring away.

"What exactly do you disagree with in this path to achieve all-pervading emptiness and bliss?"

"Th' 'empty' part," the Dragon of the Earth snarled, forcing himself to push away from the earth a few scant centimeters from his nose.

"To achieve enlightenment—"

"The zen Master Ma-tsu believed enlightenment could be achieved by beatin' th' crap outta his students," Clay panted. "I like th' precepts a' Buddhism relatin' t' focus on the simpler things and helpin' others. But I don't think all suffering in th' world comes from desire." The big blonde paused to regain his breath, earning a strike to the back of the head from the shaft of Guan's spear.

"Greed is a dangerous emotion, Clay."

"Greed's different than desire," Clay continued. "Desire's what made man come down outta th' trees and dream a' somethin' better. Desire's what prompts a man to chase after a woman, an' what creates new children. Ya think nobody's ever achieved enlightenment holdin' their firstborn? Or sugglin' with th' love a' their life? It's real easy t' talk about blissful emptiness with a full belly. Somebody's gotta be th' one t' sweat an' toil in th' sun t' grow food an' make clothes so i_monks_/i can sit on their backsides and ponder th' infinite."

"You think your duties at the Temple leave you lax?" Master Monk Guan asked.

"We train. We clean an' cook for ourselves. We don' grow anything or i_make_/i anything." Pausing in the push-up set that was currently turning his arms into noodles, Clay got a sudden flash of the beautiful beads Johnny Betty had stitched onto his boots. "Desire causes ya t' make beautiful things . . . whether t' impress someone or just t' make somethin' beautiful; desire is what causes that. Desire is what pulled us up outta th' mud, Master Monk Guan. Don't get all high-falutin' about it."

Master Monk Guan extended one leg and kicked Clay in the back of the head. The already-exhausted Dragon collapsed on his belly, the Dragon of the Earth long ago balanced on his shoulders.

"So, you feel ridding the world of evil is unproductive? Very well, young monk. I will show you the meaning of 'unproductive'."


	7. The Last Straw

Master Monk Guan glared up at the edifice that towered over him. He turned to look at the blonde that was mopping sweat from his brow.

"What?!" Clay demanded shortly.

The ancient monk's mouth tightened. He had been personally training the Dragon of the Earth for a couple of months now. The young man had made great leaps and bounds in his skills both in Tai Chi and using his Earth powers.

His attitude, however, had steadily grown worse.

At the start, Clay had been a calm, hardworking youth that was simply being stubborn about girls. He would train with his fellow Dragons in the morning, then be sent away for private training with Master Monk Guan, who would do his utmost to exhaust the stubbornness out of the big Texan. It had been working quite well at first; Clay had simply been too worn out to think about doing so much as talking back.

However, Clay Bailey was a big boy; the exercise had started catching up with him. He no longer exhausted as easily as he had at first. He started losing the extra layer of fat and putting on muscle. He started keeping up with his tutor.

Guan had changed his focus, started concentrating on Clay's Earth powers.

The Texan was ialready/i better than Guan expected and soaked up the extra tutoring like a sponge.

However, for all his improvements, Clay grew steadily angrier and angrier. He hid it well and Earth elementals had the patience of a rock, but Guan could feel the dark energy lurking.

It had just found an outlet.

Irritated by Clay's surly attitude, Guan had ordered him to build monuments to his vices. The master teacher had ordered monoliths for Anger, Lust, and Gluttony.

He hadn't counted on Clay's skills in carving.

Instead of high stone blocks or stone circles to illustrate his faults, Guan was presented with three twenty foot tall statues of Golden Era Roman quality.

Gluttony was simply a huge table spread with the most delicious looking foods one could imagine. Clay had been put on a diet as well as worked to the point of dropping; so he was probably quite hungry.

Lust was a statue of a beautiful woman; it if that was truly what Clay's paramour looked like, then it was no wonder he had been tempted. The beauty was naked except for a sheet she held coyly to her chest, but by the look in her agate eyes -- ireal/i agate; how deeply had the Earth Dragon delved to find it?—she was going to drop it at any moment and show her charms.

Anger was . . . well, anger was a statue of Clay kicking Guan's ass.

Master Monk Guan turned towards his reluctant pupil, folding his arms sternly across his chest.

"Clay! Clay!!! A Shen Gong Wu has just gone active!" a voice cried.

Clay and Master Monk Guan looked up to see Dojo coiling towards them with the other three Xiaolin Dragons perched on his back.

"We've got Wu to grab, big guy!" Rai called. "Sorry, Master Monk Guan, we'll bring him right back!"

Clay snorted. Without so much as a backwards glance, the Dragon of the Earth ran for Dojo as he touched down and flung himself aboard.

"Let's get on outta here!" The big Texan cried, thumping his heels against Dojo's flanks.

"Hey, ow, watch it!" The temple dragon groused.

Dojo lifted off again and was quickly soaring through the sky towards the newest Shen Gong Wu.

"Oh Clay, you missed my exposition on this new Wu!" Omi said, turning back towards his larger friend with scroll in hand. "It is called the Tesseract Hound and it can find anything you wish! Used with the Golden Tiger Claws, it can--,"

"That's nice; I don't care," Clay stated flatly.

Ignoring the startled looks on his friend's faces, the big cowboy laid back down on Dojo, pulling his hat down over his eyes and pinning it in place with his hand.

"Wake me up when we get there."

The other three monks fell silent. Clay had been acting less and less like himself. The big cowboy had grown short and surly over the past two months. He snapped and snarled at least little provocation. Considering it took work to iget/i Clay mad before, the monks weren't exactly pleased with this new Dragon of the Earth.

"Whatever Master Monk Guan is trying to do, I don't think it's working," Rai muttered.

"Master Monk Guan knows what he is doing!" Omi insisted hotly.

"I don't know," Kimiko opined. "Just because Clay has bad taste in women doesn't mean you should try to put him off of all of them."

"Why do you say he has bad taste in women? Johnny Betty Pecos has large breasts and a nice—" Omi's spectacularly sexist statement was cut off sharply as the pointed toe of a cowboy boot hit him in the ribs hard enough to take the breath from his lungs.

"Why don't ya'll shut up about my taste in women?" Clay inquired in what was not quite a snarl.

The other Dragons – three by title and one by species – obediantly shut up and wondered what the hell Master Monk Guan had done to break their quiet, sweet friend.

"We have triumphed over everyone, dear friend!"

"iDa/i! Now both the Xiaolin monks AND Chase Young will have to—"

"Kick your collective ass?" Raimundo challenged.

Tubbimura and Vlad both looked up from the small dog-shaped statue before them. The Tesseract Hound Shen Gong Wu rested on the Altar Stone of Stonehenge. Dojo circled around the ancient stone work once, and then the Xiaolin dragons leapt down while their guardian dragon shrank down and slipped into Raimundo's shirt.

"Hands off the Wu!" Kimiko cried.

"That goes for you losers, too!"

Tubbimura, Vlad, and the Xiaolin monks looked up to see Chase Young balanced on top of a monolith, Jack Spicer taunting the other challengers from safely behind his betrothed's back.

"Nyaa! You suck! Now that Chase is here nobody stands a chance!" The albino mocked.

No one really took notice of Clay suddenly straightening up and looking around. He didn't see the person he expected to and he took a few steps back to peer around some of the trilithons. In doing so, he placed a hand against a massive, upright stone decorated in ancient spirals.

He was not prepared for the sudden jolt of power that surged up his arm and exploded in the back of his skull. Power -- ancient, endless, limitless -- seemed to fill him from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hair. He could ifeel/i. He could feel ieverything/i; the push of the grass from his body, the hammer of earthquakes against the stones of his bones, the tickle of roots questing through his flesh.

Clay had felt a glimmer of this from time to time, when he meditated, but this . . . for what seemed like an eternity, there ceased to be'Clay' and what remained was only a small fraction of Earth, animated through magic and spirituality and the carnal acts of fertility eighteen years ago.

The Dragon of the Earth raised his hand and stared at it as though he had never seen it before; noting with interest how the minerals in his bones interwove tightly. What a beautiful, tiny miracle. He wondered if he could make them harder. He concentrated slightly and when he felt the bones firm up inside of his body, he felt a tiny smile quirk his lips, which seemed like a mere five hundred miles away.

No one may have noticed Clay looking around, but the sudden surge of power attracted attention. Jack paused from trading barbs with the monks, Tubbimura and Vlad to look up at his lover and noticed Chase staring at the Dragon of the Earth. Jack followed his gaze.

"Why does Clay look so totally stoned?" Jack asked.

Chase smirked.

"A most fortuitous choice of words, Jack-Pet. I believe the Dragon of the Earth is tapping into the ancient power of Stonehenge."

"And . . .that's . . . good?" Jack guessed.

"That remains to be seen. Given the heavy-handed training tactics Guan has been hammering into the youth's head, I have high hopes the power will temp Bailey to turning on his comrades. This all hinges on –"

"Hey." Clay had let his hand slip from the upright stone and was giving another slow, thorough look to the surrounding countryside. Only Chase felt him searching with senses other than the normal five. "Where's my woman?"

The monks blinked.

Vlad and Tubbimura blinked.

Chase's smirk deepened.

"You don't ihave/i a woman!" Kimiko hissed, turning red. "Try to sound a little more like a caveman, why don't you? iBaka gaijin/i. . ."

"Now's not the time to be thinking about . . ." Raimundo trailed off. Clay was glaring down at both of them with a look in his eyes that was very . . . . . un-Clay-like. The Brazilian's oft-ignored survival instincts were telling him that any of the words he was about to use to describe the contents of JB's panties would not be well received.

"You mean . . . JB?" Jack asked. The albino seemed to think about something very hard for a long moment. "Shit! We haven't seen her since we used her to catch that unicorn!" he yelped.

"Unicorn?" Omi echoed. "Why would you need—"

"To catch a unicorn requires the presence of a virgin maiden," Chase announced coolly. "Someone pure . . . untainted by the touch of a man."

"Tainted by insanity was apparently okay," Jack muttered under his breath.

"SHE'S a virgin?!" Kimiko squawked. "No way! I don't care what she said—"

"Taming a unicorn is ithe/i ultimate test of purity, Dragon of Fire," Chase announced. "Could iyou/i pass such a test?"

Clay swayed. His memory was apparently playing tricks on him, because he was remembering his sassy, dusky skinned Johnny Betty, but it was mixed in with vague memories of her in a long white robe, crowned with flowers and gold and laid across the Altar Stone waiting for him to couple with her while their followers worshipped the act of conception.

"She does dress like whore," Vlad opined.

The Russian didn't get to add any details to that, because a truck hit him in the chest.

Or at least, that's what it felt like.

Clay posed in the place where Vlad had stood; one hand outstretched in the Buddha Palm stance.

Vlad flew backwards and slammed into an upright stone hard enough to make it wobble. Searing pain lanced through his chest and breathing became a difficult chore. The Russian's heart slammed against ribs that were surely broken as if looking for an escape route.

"Don't slander my woman!" Clay yelled.

At least, that's what he meant to yell. What came out was a garbled mess of English, Chinese and the language of the ancient Celts.

"Hooooooo-kay," Jack breathed slowly. "Do we really need this Wu?"

Chase chuckled deep in his throat.

"I may want it eventually, but for the moment I think I will let the monks have it."

"Then we can leave crazy cowpoke to go loco?" Jack asked.

"In a moment; I want to watch this," the dragon lord chuckled.

Tubbimura lunged for the Tesseract Hound.

"Stop him!" Omi yelped.

Clay lifted a hand. A bright flash lit up the night, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. Tubbimura face planted into the dirt, coming up to smack against the Altar Stone. The Tesseract Hound wobbled from the blow, then tipped over the edge of the Altar Stone and dropped into the Dragon of Water's waiting hands.

"Nice one, Clay!" Rai cried. "I didn't even know you had the Eye of Dashi!"

"He . . . doesn't," Kimiko whispered. "I have it."

The Japanese girl produced the aforementioned Shen Gong Wu.

"I wondered how long it would take him to figure out how to do that," Jack murmured, still hanging on Chase. "Lightning strikes from the ground iup/i, after all."

"Just so, Jack-Pet," Chase observed.

Clay remained standing with one arm outstretched. He swayed from time to time, but suddenly seemed to come to a conclusion. He looked up at Chase and Jack.

"Where's my woman?"

Jack 'meeped' and slithered around to the far side of Chase. The dragon lord merely smirked.

"We do not know where your woman is, Dragon of the Earth," the Heylin lord answered smoothly. "She fled from us, heartbroken. Useful for taming unicorns though it may be, she was tiring of her virginity. She thought that she had found a man worthy of giving it to, but your inattention changed her mind. Isn't that right, Jack-Pet?"

"Huh? Oh. Oh yeah, crying like a bitch and uh . . . whining about her horniness and, um . . . carrying a dildo catalog?" Jack offered.

Chase gave his lover an exasperated look.

"What? Like I know what sexually frustrated girls do!" Jack hissed.

Clay grunted, sat down hard on the ground, and fainted.

The monks, Chase and Jack stared down at the unconscious warrior.

"Well, that was fun," Jack declared. "Can we go home now?"

It would be wrong to say that Clay dreamed. What passed through his sleeping mind were images of history long past; the ceremonies of druids, the power and majesty of his chosen element and the tangled thoughts of a teenage boy.

Master Monk Guan said he was wrong for wanting to have sex.

But unimpeded, sex was an act of creation.

To create life was not an evil act.

Many societies considered it something sacred.

Like all things humans did, it could be perverted, twisted beyond its basic intention. But if a man held himself with honor, treated his woman – or man, whatever the case may be – with honor and held himself to love and care for her and the children they created, there was nothing wrong with sex.

Now obviously, you wouldn't want to conceive a child every time you had sex; the financial considerations alone would be daunting. You wouldn't be able to lavish every child with the attention and care they deserved if you had twenty of them. Also, the world was getting overpopulated. Birth control was the simplest way to limit the number of children born.

So sex went from an act of creation to an act of love. This was still a beautiful and wonderful thing. Clay really didn't see why he had to ignore a beautiful woman who obviously held her sexual rights in equally high regard because Guan was a cockblocker.

He had to find her and tell her he was sorry and that he still cared for her. Maybe, if he were supremely lucky, JB would have it in her heart to give him a second chance. If the powers that oversaw such things believed in forgiveness, he would have his honorable woman after all. He had to see to these things.

Right after he left the Temple.

He couldn't stay there anymore. The personal opinions of Master Fung and Master Monk Guan may have already cost him one chance to find love and start a family. How many more opportunities would they rob him of simply because they didn't approve?

He would go home and tell his family how much he loved and appreciated them, then go look for his sweet JB.

Yes; that was a good, solid plan.

Clay sighed and opened his eyes.

"Stonehenge?" Guan was saying.

"Yes!" Omi cried. "He was speaking strangely and made lightning strike iwithout/i the Eye of Dashi!"

"Hmmmm, Stonehenge is a powerful magical formation long associated with Earth; I would believe Clay simply plugged into too much power. His inexperienced body couldn't handle it," Guan said.

"It was really freaky," Kimiko said. "He wasn't acting like himself at all."

"The thoughts of a thousand druid kings were running through his head," the master monk sighed. "Hopefully he won't be too damaged."

Clay groaned, sitting up gingerly. He was back in the clearing that he'd been training in when the other Dragons had picked him up.

"Hey! He's awake!" Rai cried. "Are you still you, buddy?"

Clay rubbed his face gingerly, still feeling a bit tingly from the power overload.

"Yeah . . . yeah, I'm me," the big cowboy sighed.

He looked around the clearing. Something was different. It took him a minute to come up with it, because there were a thousand voices of heathen kings whispering in the back of his head. They murmured for food, justice, aid, mercy, the comfort of their women—

Their women.

Shouldn't . . . shouldn't there be a statue of a woman around here? A large statue with agate eyes; he had made it himself! All there were here were three very large piles of scree.

Scree?

Clay clambered forward to the middle pile and searched through the heap of gravel. This wasn't . . . it couldn't be . . .

An agate eye peered coyly up at him from the back of a shattered stone.

"You . . . you broke it . . ." the Dragon of the Earth said in a tiny voice. "You broke my statue of Johnny Betty."

"Yes. We must look ipast/i our vices and—"

Guan didn't say anything after that, because a hammer blow that could have shattered a tree trunk hit him square in the jaw and sent him flying.

The other monks gasped.

"That's it! That is the last ifuckin'/i straw!" Clay bellowed. "I had all of this shit I can stand and I can't stands no more!"

"You just punched out Master Monk Gaun!" Rai squeaked. "He's gonna be so pissed!"

"I don't give a shit!" The Dragon of Earth roared. "I'm done with this! Done; ya hear me?!"

Clay tore off his apprentice sash and threw it on the ground.

"I'm goin'—"

Where Clay was going would remain unknown, for Master Monk Guan returned with a flurry of blows that swiftly brought Clay to his knees.

"I see our lessons of obedience and humility have been in vain!" The monk snapped. "I shall have to teach them to you again!"

Clay picked himself up off of the ground, giving a little shiver at the pain from Guan's blows. It had been a while since anyone had hit him hard enough to actually ihurt/i him.

"You ain't teachin' me anything else," Clay growled. "I'm done with trainin', I'm done with the Xiaolin, an' I'm done with YOU!"

"Clay . . ." Omi said weakly. "No . . ."

The two Dragons of the Earth came together in another flurry of blows. Clay was young and strong and angry, but he simply didn't have the experience to best a 1,500 year old master. Before long, he was flung back under another strike that would have killed another man.

"Your training has only begun, young Dragon!" Guan declared. "Once this rebellious attitude is purged from you, then the real training can begin!"

As the master monk started forward once more, Clay executed a sweep kick through one of the piles of shattered rock and threw up a cloud of dust and gravel. Guan kept on the attack, eyes squinted shut against the smokescreen. He saw the shape of Clay Bailey looming up through the dust and struck.

His knuckles cracked off of granite.

A Clay Bailey statue shook from the force of the blow. The real Clay was staggering upright again, clutching his stomach.

"Nice work for something done so quickly," Guan said. "It still won't—"

Guan cut off sharply as the Clay statue gave a sidekick that flung the much older man backwards.

"H-how did he—" Kimiko began. She stared at the granite Clay, seeing glowing blue where it's eyes should have been. "CLAY MADE A ROCK CREATURE?!"

"Yeah; yeah, I reckon I did," Clay drawled. "If'n Wuya could do it, why can't I?"

Guan found his feet again, staring at the statue that had been brought to life – or at least brought to animation – by the power of the young Dragon of Earth.

"This is ievil/i magic, Clay," he hissed. "You must put this aside and turn back to the way of Xiaolin!"

"I animate a statue t' keep from gettin' pasted an' suddenly I'm Chase Young Jr?" Clay sneered. "Naw. Don't think so; I'm done. Adios, goodbye!"

"Do you really think we will let you leave?" Guan asked.

"You ain't got much of a choice," the big cowboy stated. "'Cause, ya see; iI/i got th' Golden Tiger Claws."

Clay produced the aforementioned Shen Gong Wu, tore a hole through space-time and disappeared into it.

The rock creature abruptly stopped moving and fell over with a 'clunk!'

The other Xiaolin Dragons knew how much Clay missed his home in Texas, so they assumed that's where he would go first. They all leapt aboard Dojo, Master Monk Guan included, and flew as fast as they could go to the Bailey ranch.

As it turned out, Clay wasn't there.

The big cowboy returned to the Xiaolin Temple to gather his things, first. He packed up his belongings and helped himself to a few of the Shen Gong Wu; not a lot of them, mostly the ones no one else used, like the Lasso Boa Boa and the Fist of Tebigong. He kept the Golden Tiger Claws and found that the Tesseract Hound was in the vault, too. Apparently the others had stopped by the Temple and secured the Wu before dumping him back with Guan.

Master Fung had come out to see him as he was slinging the old travelling chest with all his stuff in it over one shoulder. Clay and the teaching monk had spoken briefly, with the younger man thanking the older for all that he had been taught, but being honest with the feeling that the Temple was simply not the place for him to spend the rest of his life. If the Xiaolin should ever need someone to help battle the forces of darkness, he would be glad to lend a hand.

They embraced, and Clay activated the Golden Tiger Claws once again.

He still didn't return to Texas.

Instead, he went to the Land of Nowhere and called in on Chase Young and Jack Spicer. He explained his newly-former monk status and asked if they had any idea where JB might have gone.

They didn't, but Chase Young was so pleased to hear that Clay had quit the Temple that he invited the Texan to stay for dinner.

Clay Bailey was raised to be polite and accept hospitality when at all possible, so he agreed to dine with the dragon lord and his affianced. He questioned Jack about Johnny Betty during the meal, trying to find out anything he could.

Jack knew precious little about his former bodyguard.

Johnny Betty was super-strong, super-quick and had obviously tangled with Xiaolin Dragon level opponents before. She liked most kinds of food and only turned up her nose at liver. Her favorite color was robin's egg blue and her favorite stone was turquoise. Every time she escorted Jack to a shopping center in China, she picked up a new piece of turquoise jewelry. She never finished high school, but she was fairly intelligent and was learning a few words of Chinese. She was a dog person. Her family had raised sheep and cows when she was young. She didn't trust dolphins and hated the Amish.

While Jack gave him a few bits and pieces, he didn't really provide Clay with anything solid to go on.

After dinner was over, Clay snuck back to the Temple vault and got the Tesseract Hound; it was looking like he would need it.

After such an overly full day, Clay Bailey finally used the Golden Tiger Claws to return to his home in Texas.

The monks had gotten fed up waiting for him and left not an hour before.

The reunion of the Bailey family was an affectionate affair; Clay's mother had latched onto him and held him for about ten minutes straight. Once Clay started complaining of his back hurting from hunching over she released him. Funny; he'd never had to bend over to hug his Mama before . . .

His Daddy had tackled him and hugged and wrestled with him until Clay had laughingly picked his father up and set him in his armchair. He'd never been able to overpower his father either, but . . .

Even Jesse had come out of her sullen shell to give him a hug.

The family had dinner hours before, but his Mama offered to make him something. Clay begged off, saying he had already eaten, but he'd love a hot bath. He climbed upstairs and folded himself into the tub and geez; it was a lot shorter than he remembered. In the end he had gone with a blistering hot shower and changed into some of his old clothes – tighter than he remembered, but they still fit – and rejoined his family for pie and coffee.

They talked of all the things that had gone on while he'd been in China and he told them of his adventures with the Xiaolin monks. They spoke of the future and being home. Clay told them about Johnny Betty and how he planned to find her and apologize and hope like hell she'd consent to being his woman.

That bit of news had surprised his parents. They started to protest his age and the fact that he knew so little about JB, but something about the quiet confidence Clay radiated made them hesitate to forbid that he go look for her.

In the end, he let them know that he would go searching for her in the morning and retired to his old bedroom to sleep a deep, dreamless sleep in his own bed.

Maybe, if the gods smiled on him, Johnny Betty would sleep beside him soon.


End file.
